


Magnificent United

by LeeMorrigan



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Everybody Lives, F/M, Giving Emma a gal pal, Goodnight and Billy mock Faraday, Horses, Mostly sticks to canon, Protectors, References deleted scenes, Spitfire ladies, Vasquez backstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2020-05-28 09:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19391611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeMorrigan/pseuds/LeeMorrigan
Summary: Emma Cullen's fiery cousin, Victoria, came with she and Matthew out to Rose Creek four years ago. She was not there the day Bogue killed Matthew, and she goes with Emma and Teddy to recruit help for Rose Creek. But after getting the drop on Vasquez during Sam's attempt to recruit the outlaw and telling off Faraday, she makes herself a new friend.





	1. Eventful Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> I will probably mostly stick to canon EXCEPT for the ending. To quote the 9th Doctor, EVERYBODY LIVES!!!!!!!  
> I chose names based off some research about names of the era and some names are just nods to the 1960s version of MAG7.
> 
> Trigger Warning:  
> Minor swearing (mostly Goodnight & Faraday), period-approprate alcohol use, some social commentary on the times, references in Vasquez's backstory include the attempted rape of his female relative and murder (common theme in Westerns, so I used it), gunfights, references to nightmares and losing faith in religion/God.

Victoria rode into town, ready for some good tea and a hearty meal. Emma had said when she got home, she could join Emma and Matthew for dinner. Victoria could hardly wait. Emma was the best cook in town, probably the best for a hundred miles in any direction. Victoria considered herself quite lucky to have such a great cousin, when they were kids, when Emma worked with her back East, and especially when Emma offered for Victoria to come with she and Matthew back out west where Matthew was from.

So, for the past four years she had been out at Rose Creek, living above her medicine shop while Emma and Matthew lived outside of town on their little ranch. Emma was even kind enough to let Victoria borrow Matthew once in a while to help her get the shop ready for winter or when she needed to repair the roof a couple months ago and the job was too big for one person to do safely. Emma had offered, but Matthew pointed out that if Victoria fell, that Emma wasn’t big enough to hold Victoria on the rope. Even Matthew had wrapped the rope around the top board of the railing on the stairs. Victoria being a good deal taller than Emma and barely shorter than Matthew, she was not a tiny woman by any means.

Just as Victoria was about to turn her horse towards the south end of town, towards her shop, she heard someone let out a wail. Not a normal sad wail. A mournful, pitiful sound. She tutted her horse into a faster trot and headed off towards the Church with a gnawing feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.

“Ms.Kenton!”

Turning, she spotted Teddy. He was a nice man and one of Matthew and Emma’s closest friends. He looked as if he had been to a battle. From his dirty, weary face to his blood-covered hands and blood-soaked sleeves. Behind him, Victoria could see a couple other men in no better shape, along with Mrs.Swinson, crying hysterically into the shoulder of her 12 year old son, Philip. Teddy came closer, seeming careful not to touch Victoria or her horse.

“Bogue came.”

That was all it took. Victoria’s blood was on fire and she had to grit her teeth not to swear.

“What did he do?”

“He had his goons surround us at the Church. He didn’t care for any talk of standing up to him, of calling the law in on him. He offered us pennies for our claims, telling us to move on. One of his men provoked, some men tried to fight back and he shot them down… Ms.Kenton he… He… One of his men killed Matthew.”

“Where’s Emma?”

“They took her down to your shop. Mrs.Evans didn’t think it was right to send her back home, just now, and leave her.”

Victoria turned her horse and rushed off to her shop. Once she was sure Emma was alright, and they had given Matthew a proper burial, Victoria intended to do what she should have done weeks ago. She was going to ride out and find them someone willing and able to kill Bogue. She didn’t care one bit if it were legal or not. Bogue did not deserve to live another day, and soon he would not longer be dirtying the air with his breath.

*^*^*^*

Emma, Victoria, and Mr.Chisholm rode towards the small shack. Mr.Chisholm seemed to have some idea about searching it. Emma would prefer they get to that meeting place and gather together everyone Mr.Chisholm was recruiting to come to Rose Creek. She was aware of the ticking clock her neighbors had until Bogue came back to wipe them out so he could have their land. Every day away, she grew more fearful they would be too late upon their return.

“Ms.Kenton, Mrs.Cullen, stay with the horses.”

Emma looked over at Victoria, who was sitting atop her giant gray horse with her parasol keeping the sun away from her fair skin. Emma was the red-head but Victoria was more fair, without a single freckle to show for it. And right now she looked ready to bite the head off a nail. Emma wanted justice but would settle for vengeance, Victoria wanted blood. Lots of it. And she especially wanted Bogue’s. Looking back, Emma counted her blessings that Victoria had not been in town when Bogue came, or she likely would have been digging two graves rather than just Matthew’s.

“He’s taking too long.”, Emma groused.

“He’s the expert. That’s why you hired him.”

“Since when did you become the sensible one?”

Victoria shrugged, moving to check that she could reach the knife she kept in her left boot. Emma wasn’t sure where the habit came from, or where Victoria learned, but she kept at least three knives on her at all times and could use them as well as Emma used a rifle.

“I’m going.”, Emma said as she dismounted, handing her reins off to Victoria. Victoria, for her part, only let out a sigh as she accepted the reins.

Moving forward, Emma crept up to the front of the cabin. Mr.Chisholm had circled around it and disappeared. If not for his horse being left with she and Vic, Emma might have thought he had gone after so long without a sign of him. She had barely made it into the door when she heard insects buzzing and turned, following the sound, to find a dead man laying propped against one wall. She felt her stomach threaten to return it’s contents and she moved to leave, only for a rope to ensnare her feet, a yank sending her to the floor.

Mr.Chisholm came from around the back door, his hands moving for his pistol until Emma’s captor stepped out, his gun already cocked and aimed. Mr.Chisholm raised his hands as Emma struggled against the lasso that had tightened around her ankles.

“Gun. Gun. Give it to me.”, the man ordered her, his eyes moving back and forth between she and Mr.Chisholm.

Emma considered pulling her gun and shooting the man, but she worried he may squeeze the trigger and shoot Mr.Chisholm. Slowly, Emma withdrew her gun from the holster and moved it up, then laid it beside the outlaw’s foot. She was sure he was an outlaw. The way he watched Mr.Chisholm and how he had hidden, laying in wait for them. Those were not the marks of an honest, law-abiding man.

The outlaw kicked her gun aside, then moved slightly, making it harder for Emma to possibly kick his feet from under him. She had considered it. He used the barrel of his gun to indicate the dead man inside, as he spoke to Mr.Chisholm.

“He was already dead, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He pulled the lasso just a little, effectively cutting off the circulation to Emma’s feet. There was no way she could run or try to kick free now. That irritated her almost enough to risk punching the man in his knee. Or somewhere more vital.

“You been sleepin’ in here?”, Mr.Chisholm questioned.

The other man smiled slightly. Emma thought she was going to be sick.

“He doesn’t snore much.”

“You Vasquez?”

“What’s it to you?”, the outlaw answered.

He checked over his shoulder, seeming quite antsy. Mr.Chisholm seemed so calm and cool. Emma wanted to scream.

“If you want to tear up a warrant.”, Mr.Chisholm started as he reached for something at his waist.

The outlaw tutted him as he poised to fire. Emma was sure there would be bloodshed.

Mr.Chisholm pulled a folded sheet from his pocket, holding it up.

“Just want to make sure I’m talking to the right man.”

Emma struggled to no avail, as the outlaw- Vasquez, tugged her bonds with his left hand, his right still securely holding his gun. Mr.Chisholm moved closer to Vasquez. He held out a WANTED poster, the picture looking very much like the man holding a gun on Mr.Chisholm.

“Good likeness.”, Vasquez commented almost as if he wanted to spit. “You a bounty hunter?”

“Duly sworn warrant officer.”, answered Mr.Chisholm.

“Where’s your gun?”

Emma looked, realizing Mr.Chisholm was not wearing his gun.

“Man carries a gun, he tends to use it.”

Both men appeared temporarily amused. Mr.Chisholm held the warrant as Mr.Vazquez appeared to relax slightly. Emma noticed, now that Mr.Vasquez’s legs were nolonger impeding her view, that Victoria was not on her horse. Or anywhere near them.

The men began discussing what the warrant said the outlaw had done, with Mr.Chisholm talking to him about what would happen next. Emma paid them little attention, her mind going through dozens of terrible reasons why Victoria was gone. The outlaw was not alone and his gang had quietly taken Victoria, being the favorite nightmare.

“Does this business involve her?”, Emma caught as the outlaw grinned. She tried to tug away, but it was no use. Not with both her feet numb, her ankles so tightly strung together, and her gun on the other side of this outlaw.

“Let me out of here! You wipe that smile off your face!”

The outlaw only chuckled.

“Laugh now, get it out of your system.”, Emma growled.

Then there was the sound of a rifle being cocked. Both men turned to see a tall woman holding a gun aimed directly for the outlaw’s head. Emma was ready to cheer. Her cousin looked like the vengeful fury many made her out to be.

“Mr.Chisholm,” she started, “you were about to make this man a proposition.”

“So after our business is concluded, what then?”

Mr.Chisholm smiled. “There’ll still be a lot of men out for your hide.”

“And that should give me comfort?”

“Should. I won’t be one of them.”

For a tense moment, Emma couldn’t breathe. She watched as Victoria stood guard, Mr.Chisholm considered, and the outlaw seemed to be weighing his options. Standing in front of an unarmed warrant officer, with a Henry rifle pointed at his head, and Emma down too low for Victoria to worry she might miss and hurt Emma, she did not figure he had much in the way of choices. Still, he was backed into a corner. Men could be a might unpredictable when they were threatened with their back to the wall.

The outlaw smiled and began to laugh lightly, raising his gun and uncocking it. Rolling the gun with flourish, to replace it in his holster, he grinned at Mr.Chisholm.

“You really are loco, my friend.”

“Si.”

Emma watched, taking her cues from Mr.Chisholm. The outlaw moved to pull the rope from Emma’s feet, with Victoria still keeping her rifle trained on his back. Mr.Chisholm seemed more concerned about that than the outlaw did, which surprised Emma.

“I think you can lower the canon now, Ms.Kenton.”

Victoria looked to Emma, and Emma gave a nod. Only then did Victoria lower her weapon. She helped Emma up, letting Emma lean on her as they made their way to the horses. Mr.Vasquez leaned over to Mr.Chisholm.

“Traveling with two beautiful, feisty women. You are loco. Lucky, but loco.”

Chisholm shook his head as Vasquez headed off towards where his own horse was stashed, off some ten yards from where Chisholm, Mrs.Cullen, and Ms.Kenton had left their horses.

“Yeah. Lucky.”, he muttered.


	2. The Company's First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goody and Billy join the group, Faraday learns the hard way that Victoria does not take well to being touched, Vasquez and Goody show a little kindness, and Emma ponders on what awaits her back at Rose Creek, now that she is nolonger Mrs.Cullen but now the widow of the late Matthew Cullen. (I promise, the next chapter is happier)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:  
> Mentions the loss of a child due to fever, hints at reasons why Vasquez shot the Ranger, and ponders post-war demons/ghosts lingering in the soldiers who fought the War.
> 
> This mostly follows along with the scene in the movie where Faraday brings Billy & Goody back to the camp where Chisolm and Emma were waiting. Red Harvest and Jack have yet to join the team at this point. As for Emma's backstory, this was based on something that popped into my head when I saw the movie in theatres and wondered about the look that passed between she and Matthew when he mentioned all they had suffered/lost to get to Rose Creek and make their lives there. Considering the odds of a child surviving from birth to their 20s, the illnesses that swept through wagon trains and small towns out west, and the fact that Emma & Matthew seemed to be childless yet appeared to have been married a while, all conspired to form a sad backstory.
> 
> I promise, the next chapter is happier. We'll get to see the guys shoot some of Bogue's men and be greeted by the townsfolk, plus some of the rebuilding and other efforts to fortify the town in preparation for Bogue's attack. So there will be bonding, camaraderie, bromance, romance, and such.
> 
> Also- I do not speak a lick of Spanish or French (I Sign), so I apologize now for all the errors I know are in the French Goody speaks and the errors I think I may have in Vasquez's Spanish. Feel free to message me with corrections! I'll take all the help I can get with French & Spanish. [If you can't figure out the French, sound it out, it should hopefully be phonetic enough to make sense]

Mr.Chisolm had picked a spot for them to wait for Mr.Faraday to return with the man Chisolm sent him for, as well as Teddy. Emma, if she were honest, would admit she worried far more about what might befall Teddy than about Mr.Faraday actually bringing back anyone of use. So far, Mr.Chisolm’s judgement had been sound. Teddy was just a honest farmer, going with a degenerate gunman to hire more gunslingers. He was in over his head. Then again, so were she and Victoria.

While Emma was refilling canteens and thinking too much, Victoria was brushing down the horses- including Chisolm’s, and Mr.Chisolm was surveying the horizon from an area slightly above where the ladies worked. Emma hoped that Teddy, Mr.Faraday, and whomever they had hired, would come back soon. Rose Creek’s time was running out.

“Here they are.”, called Mr.Chisolm from his spot uphill.

Emma moved to hang the canteens so she could face the new recruits when they arrived. Vasquez, their outlaw gunman, appeared from out of thin air it seemed, hanging back from where Mr.Chisolm stood. Four men rode in, including Teddy. Emma could make out the silhouettes to see that Mr.Faraday was in the lead, Teddy bringing up the rear, with two shorter men in the middle. The one wore a light-colored hat and jacket, the other was a man in a smaller, black hat with a matching vest and pants. As they rode closer, Emma took in the details. The man in the light colored hat appeared older, perhaps older than Mr.Chisolm by some years, and too thin. Almost frail. The man with him gave off an air of warning, his back often to the older man. He also appeared to be an Asian. Back East, Emma had rarely seen any Asians. It had become more and more common to her since she came out west with Matthew.

The two men dismounted, the older man stopping to speak with Mr.Chisolm with a familiarity that spoke of many shared battles between them. The man in the dark hat kept track of the horses and appeared to be taking stock of all of them in the camp. Mr.Faraday got off his horse a bit unsteadily to Emma’s eyes while Teddy just seemed tired.

“Whose this?”, the man in the pale hat asked.

“We work for her.”, answered Mr.Chisolm.

The elder gunslinger moved towards Emma and she felt the urge to take a step back. Instead, she held her ground, standing tall as she could, doing her best to keep her face neutral and her chin up. The man held his hand to his heart as a light chuckle echoed from his lips.

“Well, onshontea, mon cher.”, he offered in French as he held out a hand.

Emma reached out to take it, giving it a firm shake and offering her name.

“Your hands are cold, Emma.”, he commented with very direct eye contact as he kept her hand in his. “Are you nervous? Don’t be.”

Emma readjusted her opinion. He was not frail or old. He was sad. She could see it in his blue eyes. She had seen enough of the old soldiers from the War to know the look. He had seen too much death, too much senseless killing, and the ghosts would not leave him be.

“Goodnight’s my name.”, he said with a small, soft smile.

Suddenly, Emma had images of the elderly gentlemen that sometimes came into her father’s shop back East. The heavy accents that matched the frequent lapses into French as they charmed those around them with witty country yarns or to tease women far too young for them to really mean to court. They had been harmless yet entertaining, educated and well traveled, yet their eyes were often a bit sad when they thought no one was looking.

Mr.Goodnight stepped away as Mr.Chisolm and Mr.Faraday began speaking about the trip. Emma walked off to take care of her horse and to find Victoria, who appeared to have walked off again. The girl was forever disappearing.

“Billy’s pretty nifty with them pig-stickers.”, Faraday reported as an explanation of Billy’s presence when he had only been sent to get the rifleman who had attempted to charm Emma. Victoria had not heard anything the rifleman said, yet she was close enough to overhear Faraday and Chisolm’s conversation as she brought Teddy a fresh canteen.

Mr.Chisolm nodded and began to walk back to their little camp. Mr.Faraday, however, seemed to have just taken notice of Mr.Vasquez. Victoria felt her chest tighten. Somehow, she knew Faraday would not take the genteel tact and would likely say something inflammatory. From Mr.Vasquez’s posture shift, it seemed he expected the same.

“Oh good, we got a Mexican.”, was Faraday’s dry attempt at a joke.

Moving towards Mr.Vasquez, Faraday began humming and muttering in a terrible impression of Spanish as he mimed using his gun and dancing around a bit right in front of Mr.Vasquez. Thankfully, Mr.Chisolm was there to pull Mr.Vasquez aside before there could be any further exchange. Teddy rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh that Victoria took to mean he was about done with Faraday’s antics. She smiled, giving Teddy’s arm a quick pat as he went back to tending his horse and she turned to join Emma and the others.

“Well, well. Lookie here. We got us two fine fillies we’re gonna be travelin’ with. Where’d Chisolm find you? You another hired gun?”

Victoria raised one eyebrow as she made a show of appraising Faraday. She had been there when Emma, Teddy, and Chisolm recruited Faraday, however she had been across the street getting supplies for the ride back and trying to sell a few things for cash to pay whomever they hired. Then Chisolm had sent Faraday to fetch another gunman.

“Mr.Faraday,” she started.

“Oh, what are you a school marm?”

“No. I own a Medicine Shop in Rose Creek. Now, if you will kindly step out of my way, I have work to finish before dinner.”

“You cookin’?”

Victoria wanted to growl. Why must everyone assume she cooked?

“No. Emma. Excuse me.”, she moved, using her shoulder to move Faraday off to the side so she could pass by him. Faraday attempted to reach and slap her arse, but she turned, catching his wrist.

“If we did not have a need of that hand in working order, Mr.Faraday, I would not have been so kind.”, she pushed a little with her thumb, pinching a spot in his wrist that would make his middle and ring fingers burn a bit. A trick one of her teachers back in Ladies Finishing School, had taught her.

“The next time you attempt to touch me without my permission, I will break your left hand one bone at a time.”

Releasing his hand, she walked off. Faraday looked up, finding the Mexican and Goodnight each having a good chuckle at his expense. Chisolm only shook his head at Faraday before turning back to the small fire Emma and Billy had gotten going to cook dinner on, once someone went out to shoot it.

Later that evening, as they sat around the fire, Vasquez found himself curious. Taking over his plate with the remainder of his rabbit and beans, he moved to stand near where Ms.Kenton was perched on her saddle, a knife in her left hand and a small hunk of wood in the right. Her dark eyes were intent on it and for the first time since joining this misfit band of gunfighters and ladies, she had neither her hat or parasol.

“What are you working on?”, he ventured to ask.

She looked up at him, a softer look on her face than he had seen before. She looked even younger than she had before.

“I make little figurines of animals I’ve seen in my travels. They aren’t perfect replicas, sadly. Close enough for people who’ve seen the real thing to recognize the animal.”

“Is that one a buffalo?”

“No. It’s going to be a zebra. I saw one back in England, at a zoo. Poor thing was all alone in a pen with two mules and some dogs from a place called Australia. They were all too thin, to my eyes.”

He nodded, watching her as she worked to thin out the creature’s neck. Her fingers were strong but nimble, working expertly to chip away little pieces until the shape was becoming more obvious.

“You keep them as a collection, no?”

She shook her head a little, a small smile forming on her dark lips.

“I keep them in the shop. The kids buy them for a penny. Sometimes I give them to the children when they are well-behaved as they take the first dose of something that tastes awful but will keep them well, cure a sore throat, or cool a rash.”

Vasquez pictured it, all these young children running about the streets, holding little wooden figures of animals most of them would never get a chance to see. Not for the first time, he wondered how two women like Mrs.Cullen and Ms.Kenton, came to be in some small town out West, only to run afoul of someone like Bogue. He especially wondered about the tall woman who could get the drop on him, handled a Henry with such practiced ease, and had at least three knives that he had counted.

“How did you and Mrs.Cullen get out here?”

She looked up at him for a moment, before returning her eyes to the work in her hands.

“If you’re going to ask my story, the least you could do is sit down to finish your meal.”

He smiled, moving to sit on the fallen branch that seemed to form a little bench beside her saddle. She went back to widdling the little wooden zebra and Vasquez quietly tucked into the remainder of his meal.

“Emma and I, our mothers are sisters. I went off to get turned into a Lady back in Europe, at our grandfather’s insistence. Emma was not old enough to go yet when I left and when I came back, she was about to be married, to Matthew Cullen. He had grown up out West and was going back after the wedding. Emma asked me if I wanted to come with her. I don’t think she wanted to go alone with just Matthew, and she knew I had no reason to stay back East without her. I took some of my savings to purchase a slot to travel with them and the rest I used to build and fill my shop in Rose Creek. Emma and Matthew started their ranch outside of town. It was all pretty wonderful until… Until Bogue came.”

Vasquez paused his eating to look over at her. It had been a long time since he had lived near a town, seeing the same people and going to the same Church every week, a member of a community. He could still remember what a comfort that was, until the Ranger had come to their town. When the Ranger took Diego and Solana, that peace was gone forever.

Ms.Kenton’s pale hand reached out from the darkness, covering Vasquez’s forearm. The warmth of the gesture and her skin, seeped right into him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up any unpleasant memories.”

He tried to shake his head, both to clear it and to indicate that it was nothing. She appeared to see right through it.

“Do not worry, senorita.”

She offered a small smile.

Emma watched from her bedroll on the other side of their little camp. She supposed that she ought to be angry at Victoria for getting so close to the man who had given Emma bruises around her ankles and bum, yet she was not. Victoria was so closed off around anyone but she and Matthew, Emma was more shocked than anything, at the ease her cousin had with Mr.Vasquez. Another feeling also bubbled up. One she preferred not to ponder over. A loneliness that seemed to be settling into her bones, the fire and her blankets, not even the light sunburn across her shoulders and cheeks, doing anything to touch.

The cold weight of realization had hit her as they headed back to Rose Creek, of what she would return to. She had left in a fury, ready to find killers to come kill those who had taken her neighbors and her husband. Now, as she lay alone in a bedroll under the stars as she had done on only the third night of her marriage, almost a decade ago, she realized what her life was now. She was a widow. She had meant to grow old with Matthew. To have a family, build up their ranch, play with grandchildren, and spend the whole of their lives together until the Good Lord called them home at some ripe, old age.

Now, she would return to an empty shell that had been her home with Matthew. His things would still be about her, laid out and ready to go in the morning as always. The new horse he had purchased before this mess started, was expecting a fowl any day now and Matthew would not be there to help her deliver it. And when she passed the tiny grave, out at the back of their property where Emily Nicole lay, there would now be a larger grave beside it. Their grand adventure had not turned out the way it was supposed to. They were supposed to have their children running wild as they built their life, watching their children grow up into fine young men and women as they grew old together.

A single tear slipped down her sun-burned cheek as she stared into the fire. She could not look at Victoria and Mr.Vasquez at present, nor could she handle the revelry of Mr.Faraday and Mr.Robicheaux. Teddy and Chisolm were on watch, Billy was sound asleep by the looks of him, and Emma could not make her mind be still. Her thoughts raced between watching her memories of her life with Matthew, and images of what her life would now be. She could still remember the feel of Matthew behind her at night, his warm, firm chest against her back, one hand across either her hip or her stomach depending how long he had been asleep, his long legs behinds hers, a soft snore sounding behind her ear.

When she had been carrying Emily, Matthew had held her close every night. Especially when Emily was active and kept Emma from sleeping. Matthew would move to lay in front of her, pulling her close to his chest and letting his warmth soothe Emily off to sleep. And after Emily had been born, all it took was for Matthew to wrap those warm arms around her, and she would go straight off to sleep with the most contented little look on her face. And after the fever came through, leaving Emma so sick that she remembered only the most blurry, unclear moments of the week she spent burning up inside herself, those arms had greeted her and then held her as he gave her the worst news. They had lost Emily. For whatever reason, Matthew had been spared of any sickness, left to watch helplessly as Emma slept fitfully and covered in sweat, and dear, beloved Emily slipped away.

There had been no more babies after Emily. They had not tried for a while, both too lost in their grief to think of having another. Then, slowly, they began to warm to the idea of the house once more filled with a baby’s laughter. Yet the Lord had not granted them another child. Now Emma was angry that they had waited. Had they not, maybe there would have at least been a piece of Matthew still here. A little boy with his father’s unruly black curls or another little girl, but with her father’s piercing blue eyes. Emily had been Emma’s spitting image, red hair and dark blue eyes, with a hint of freckles already starting when she was not yet a year old.

“Mrs.Cullen? Mrs.Cullen?”

She turned to see Mr.Robicheaux offering her a small flask and a tender look. It seemed that he, unlike the rest, had noticed the change in her as the light faded. Emma took the flask, giving him a small nod of thanks, before taking a draw of the liquid she had expected to be burning, harsh liquor. Instead, it was a smooth, fruitier drink. Something like wine, but not as sweet.

She handed back his small, delicately etched flask.

“Thank you, Mr.Robicheaux.”

He nodded.

“You’re welcome, mon cher.”

Turning under her blankets, Emma attempted to get comfortable enough to sleep. After nearly ten years with Matthew, she had grown accustomed to always having him near. On rare nights, he had stayed in the barn to look after an animal he was worried over, or snow had kept him in town when he went for supplies. Otherwise, he had spent every night beside her in a bed, the back of a wagon, under the stars, or a hotel room.

Just as Emma was about to give up and go for a walk, she felt something shift behind her. Victoria had moved her belongings and was now moving into her own bedroll, her back turned to Emma. As children, they had sometimes slept in the same bed. Especially when Victoria’s parents came to stay at Christmastime. Emma always eagerly awaited the holiday, knowing her favorite elder cousin would come. And always with some candies and good stories to tell as they sat up half the night. Eventually, Emma would roll onto her right side to face the window in her room and Victoria would roll onto her left to face the door. Victoria hated having her back to a door, to the point she would sleep upside down in a bed or even on the floor, if that was what it took not to have her back to the door.

She heard Victoria muttering something under her breath as she lay there. Turning, Emma looked over at her cousin in confusion. She had never once complained on the journey to Texas. In fact, Emma had been convinced Victoria liked sleeping outside, under a blanket of stars, with the occasional tune played by some of those in the wagon train between dinner and lights out.

“What’s wrong, Vic?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you grousing under your breath?”

There was a pause.

“Don’t worry about it, Em. I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe you. Is it all the men? I’m sure Teddy and Mr.Chisolm, and,”, Victoria cut her off.

“Snakes.”

“Pardon?”

“I saw a snake earlier, and now I can’t stop thinking about waking up to find I’m sharing my bedroll with one.”

Emma almost wanted to laugh. Victoria was always a tough, stubborn, hard-headed woman with a temper to make their Irish grandfather proud. Hearing her admitting to such an ordinary fear almost made Emma want to roll laughing at her elder cousin.

“I’m sure with all this activity, from the men and the horses, that no snakes are coming near.”

“For now. But later, when most everyone is asleep…”, she trailed off as she looked around, seemingly intending to spot all the potential routes a snake might take to her bedroll.

Mr.Vasquez moved over to them, his lasso in hand, and a somewhat worried look on his face. Emma wondered what he was up to, as his lasso gave her pause. The man crouched beside Victoria, as if he realized that he was making Emma nervy.

“I heard you mention you had seen a snake earlier, before dinner. Here.”

He moved to lay his rope, nolonger tied to lasso, around Emma and Victoria’s bedrolls. Emma eyed him as Victoria helped move the rope around Victoria’s side of their bedrolls.

“Snakes, they don’t like to slither over coarse rope.”

Victoria nodded as Emma considered the logic. She supposed if she were cursed to writhe about the world on her belly, she would avoid coarse, scratchy surfaces as well. Although she had somehow always figured the scales of a snake did not allow for much feeling.

“Thank you, Mr.Vasquez.”, she offered.

He only nodded once to her, then looked to Victoria.

“Buenas noches.”

With that, he stepped back and pointedly ignored the sniggering from Mr.Faraday. Emma noticed that Billy had checked from under the brim of his hat when he heard Vasquez’s steps, and was now back to looking sound asleep. Mr.Robicheaux and Mr.Chisolm were still talking, and Teddy was up walking around their camp. Letting out a breath, Emma laid back down to sleep, saying a quick prayer for Rose Creek before she let her eyes slide closed for the night.


	3. Bonding and Camping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company encounter Jack Horne and Red Harvest. Goody and Vasquez bond. Victoria and Emma worry about each other. Vasquez and Goody show unexpected kindness towards some of their new companions while Billy keeps watch, Faraday jokes, and Sam has to keep it all together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:  
> If you've seen the movie, remember the scene where Goodnight and Vasquez talk about their respective grandfathers at the Alamo? Yeah, that scene happens here so that conversation is recounted here verbatim, so if that scene bothered you- you may want to skip this.  
> Also shows the introduction of Mr.Horne and of Red Harvest, as seen in the film. Again, I didn't add anything but I do describe the violence of Mr.Horne's encounter with the Pigeon brothers and how Red Harvest bonds with Sam.  
> I also talk about some concerns people might naturally have while camping out in the desert such as Snakes, some thoughts on seeing the dead buried above ground, and other notes from the movie.

As they rode, Mr.Robicheaux began rattling off a roll call of their company. One that Victoria did not think sounded terribly flattering, though it sounded like a scrappy group who just might be the David to Bogue’s Goliath. If they were lucky.

“What a merry band we are. Me a gray, Chisolm a blue. Billy a mysterious man of the Orient. A drunk Irishman. A Texican. A pair of females and their gentleman caller.”, he chuckled.

“This is not going to end well.”, finished Robicheaux.

“I’m Mexican, cabron.”, Vasquez said before spitting.

He then continued his correction to Goodnight.

“No such thing as a ‘ _Texican_ ’.”

“Try telling that to my granddaddy.”, Goodnight countered. “He died at the Alamo. New Orleans Grays, long barracks, bayonets. Blood. Teeth. Mauled by a horde of teeming brown devils.”

“My grandfather was one of those devils, you know. Toluca Battalion.”

He then leaned over towards Goodnight, a smirk on his scruff-covered face.

“Hey, maybe my grandfather killed your grandfather, huh?”

“Hmmm, what a charming thought.”

Vasquez chuckled as Billy kept a careful watch. Victoria noticed that Billy was keeping a hand close to one of his knives, but Goodnight continued to joke.

“I sense we are bonding.”, he added as he looked back at Billy, as if to reassure his companion that the teasing had not upset him. Billy’s hand lowered away from his weapon subtly.

Victoria glanced back to check on Emma again, as Emma’s horse was a little slower, being such an old girl. With their other horse having a fowl due, Emma would not have heard of riding her on this trip and instead had left the minister with strict instructions to make sure the horse and ranch were looked in on at least daily while they were gone. Emma was sunburned and tired looking, but she offered a slight smile to Victoria. Teddy looked to be fairing no better. He had repeatedly offered his jacket to Emma, as Victoria had offered her parasol, yet she had continued to insister she was fine.

*^*^*^*^*^*

They had come in search of a final member of this company of gunmen, a man named Jack Horne. Victoria had not known who he was, so Mr.Chisolm informed her. Emma had heard of him, in passing, from a friend of Matthew’s. She had not remembered half as much as Mr.Chisolm revealed to them of the scalp-taking trapper, tracker, and former scout. Emma had expected someone like Mr.Faraday, but older and with a horse heavily laden with pelts. She did not expect two skinny, unkept men celebrating over a rifle as she, Victoria, Teddy, and their companions arrived at the cabin of this Mr.Horne.

Everyone dismounted, Goodnight and Faraday moving pretty far up into the porch off the side of the little cabin, Mr.Chisolm moving to confront the two skinny men. Emma checked to find Teddy off as far from them as he could get while keeping them and the little lane up to the cabin, in his line of sight. Victoria was sitting with one hip over the edge of the porch, her parasol protecting her from the sun’s wrath. Emma had not thought to bring her own and in the current heat, she regretted it, though she would not admit it to Teddy or Vic.

“You’re saying you killed Horne?”

“Yeah, we got his gun too. Proof of the kill.”

“That’s Jack Horne’s gun? The legendary Jack Horne?”

The one man began explaining how they had tracked him into the mountains and taken the gun after killing him by getting behind him and hitting him over the head as he went to eat his meal.

“Sneaked up behind him, did ya?”, Goodnight question with enough of a tone for even these two miscreants to understand the implication.

They both puffed up, trying to assert how skilled and brave they were when there was a sound, and then an axe implanted within the chest of the first man. Everyone turned to where the axe must have come from to see a great bear of a man barreling down the hillside, aimed dead at the man holding Jack Horne’s gun.

From what Emma gathered seeing Mr.Chisolm’s face, this was Jack Horne. Not dead, but looking to reclaim that which was his. He charged at the remaining thief. The thief fell back in his hurried attempts to use a gun far too large for his small frame, shooting straight into the air and wasting his shot. Jack Horne came at him like a sudden summer storm, using the discarded weapon to strike the thief’s head, then coming closer to stomp his foot straight down upon the man’s skull with a sickening sound. Emma felt her breakfast rise in her throat as she turned away. Teddy fared no better.

“The Pigeon Brothers weren’t famous for very long.”, Goodnight commented. Victoria arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. Billy double checked his blades. He must have sensed the large man in front of them may have not been the most predictable sort.

The mountain man came closer, spouting bits of Scripture as he asserted that he had a right to take back what had been stolen from him, that God and the law gave him the right. Mr.Chisolm, Vasquez, and Goodnight all agreed, giving him the response he needed to calm him as Mr.Horne gathered his belongings from the bodies of the thieves. There was a watchfulness about Mr.Horne, as if he were as much accustomed to being prey as he was being the hunter. Emma glanced up to Victoria and found that Victoria was watching carefully from under her parasol, her dark eyes saddened as they fell on Mr.Horne.

Mr.Chisolm began speaking to Mr.Horne, reminding him that they had once known each other. Emma could not get over the amount of blood still on Mr.Horne’s face. She would have thought a tracker and hunter would wipe away something that might attract predators. Mr.Faraday, seemingly incapable of helping himself, butted in with a comment on the lack of work for Mr.Horne seeing as the government nolonger paid for scalps from the Native tribespeople. At the mention of his former line of work, the mountain man seemed to curl in on himself, somehow becoming smaller. Almost like a terribly wounded, tiny, frightened animal.

“That’s part of my story?”, he almost wheezed out to Mr.Chisolm.

Mr.Chisolm nodded, his face almost as sad as Goodnight’s, Victoria noted.

“Yes it is.”

Mr.Horne seemed a broken soul as he put his last few pieces together and Mr.Chisolm made the quietest, saddest version of his sales pitch. Victoria felt that he was giving Horne an out even before he asked him to really join. The mountain man walked off with his gun and horse reclaimed, not saying a word to them as he did so.

“I do believe that bear was wearing people clothes.”, Faraday attempted to joke, getting a nervous chuckle from Teddy and a Look from Goodnight. Victoria wanted to slap him, though she supposed that this was his way of handling stressful situations where he could not just shoot the source of his discomfort. He had backed Mr.Chisolm in that saloon, and Victoria judged that Mr.Faraday was someone who had survived despite himself, and now was a wild man growing bored in an increasingly civilized West.

Soon, there would be no place for men like those she sat with. She wondered about what would happen when that day came. What would become of these men, fashioned to deal with a world that would cease to exist within the next few years? Would they adapt? Find jobs that were sure to kill them? Or would they fade into the tumble weeds and dirt devils, like legends?

*^*^*^*^*^*

They made camp tucked into some rocks, on the way to Rose Creek. On the way they had encountered a burial ground for the local tribe. Emma had been as unsettled as Mr.Vasquez, who felt the need to comment how you should not trust anyone who would bury their dead above the ground. Emma had been inclined to agree. Victoria had appeared fascinated and a bit apprehensive, though with her one hand hovering near the knife she kept tied to her saddle horn, Emma wondered if it was the dead who were putting Victoria on the edge. Or if it was who had erected the scaffolds for the dead.

They were a man shy of what they intended, yet they pressed on. Victoria was sitting up, having been unable to sleep, so she opted to take a shift and allow Sam to get a little more sleep rather than having him woken at 2 by Teddy and Goodnight. She was still awake for the next change of the guard and had not woken Billy and Faraday for their shift. But as the day began to break, casting the world in a quiet blue glow, there was a stillness that set the hairs on her nape to stand straight.

Mr.Chisolm bolted upright from his bedroll, gun raised and ready as he let out a small sound of alarm. Mr.Vasquez, Goodnight, and Billy all roused as well, with Billy and Vasquez moving for their weapons and Goodnight raising his hat to look around them.

“Smell that?”, questioned Goodnight.

By now, the whole camp was up. Emma moved for her weapon and Victoria grabbed the small pistol she kept close during the night. If something happened, she would back Emma up as Emma had the rifle.

“What smell?”, Teddy asked.

Faraday rose with his hat still covering his face, and everyone else beginning to look around and take hold of their weapons.

“The smoke,” Chisolm answered, “it’s black.”

The sound of rocks falling drew everyone’s attention to Emma and Teddy’s corner of their camp, their guns trained on the opening of their little space they had camped in. Mr.Horne came walking in quietly, as Teddy said what they all had quickly figured out- Mr.Horne tracked them. Before any further comment could be made, Mr.Horne began to gesture, mostly towards Chisolm. Mr.Chisolm spun around the opposite direction, understanding a good deal more of the gesturing than Victoria could claim to.

Vasquez and Goodnight turned the same way as Chisolm, all three gazing into the thin tree cover opposite of where Horne had come in. And as everyone began to look, a figure grew clearer. A man on a horse. An Indian with his face painted, riding a horse, with a dead dear slung across the back of the horse almost as if it were in the man’s lap. Victoria lowered her weapon. If the Indian had meant them ill, he would have had plenty of opportunity to have committed his violence already.

The young Indian rode closer to their camp, clearing the trees. Emma scuttled back a bit, as if trying to find some cover. Victoria reached out to Emma’s shoulder, trying to get her to lower her weapon. It didn’t work.

“Please tell me I am hallucinating?”, came Goodnight.

Faraday answered, “If you are hallucinating, so am I.”

Horne and Goodnight both cast their eyes about the site and around, with Goodnight moving to higher ground on one of the higher outcroppings. Everyone seemed very jumpy, except Mr.Chisolm and Teddy. Chisolm was calm as still water, Teddy looked more shocked than anything as he stood near Emma’s left.

“Where there’s one, there’s more.”, Goodnight warned.

“Hold your fire. Hold your fire.”, cautioned Chisolm.

There was a short moment of nearly everyone aiming a weapon at the incoming brave, before Mr.Chisolm spoke in what Victoria could only assume was the language of the man approaching their camp. Faraday looked over, seemingly caught by great surprise at Chisolm pulling yet another useful skill from his bag of tricks. Vasquez spared Chisolm a quick look, as did Billy.

Mr.Chisolm turned his gun in his hand, so that it was barrel to the ground and loosely held in his hand, making a show of it to their new guest. Whispering to Vasquez, he handed the gun off to him before stepping forward, further speaking to the young brave. The man answered him back and moved forward cautiously. Soon, Mr.Chisolm and the young brave had met in the middle, speaking too quietly for Victoria to hear them.

Everyone watched and waited, tense and ready to react. Mr.Chisolm, as usual, was calm and spoke softly. After a moment, the young man got down from his horse after dropping the deer to the ground. His whipping out a knife caused a bit of a shift among the men in the company as well as Emma, with everyone expecting the worst and Chisolm gesturing back towards them with one hand to let them know it was alright. Then the young man cut into the deer, a moment later producing what appeared to be the liver, and handing it off to Chisolm.

Victoria did not know how the man did it, but he took the offered organ and bit into it, raw and warm from the freshly killed deer. If she had done that, she would have been sick for a month. Assuming that she would have been able to make herself bite into the hunk of meat. The young brave took another bite from it once the organ had been handed back, and Mr.Chisolm walked back to their camp, using some sand from the ground to dry the blood on his hand.

Mr.Horne spoke what was on all their minds, as Chisolm returned.

“What’d he say?”

“Said he’s with us. Gonna fix him some breakfast, I already had mine.”

Vasquez handed Chisolm back his gun and everyone in the camp began to relax and lower their weapons.


	4. Welcome to Rose Creek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Seven arrive in Rose Creek to face off against Bogue's hired guns. They then get their first introduction to the residents of Rose Creek, before having a meal together in the bar. Goodnight gets his shoulder wound looked by the local medicine shop owner and Vasquez gets a small surprise. Goody and Billy talk about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly - thank you to everyone who has read, commented, kudo-ed, and/or bookmarked. Thank you, and I hope you are enjoying these chapters as much as I am.
> 
> Secondly - trigger warnings: If you've seen the scene in the movie where the Seven shoot the crap out of Bogue's guys before Sam makes the crooked sheriff take a message to Bogue, there won't be anything in here you haven't already seen. This does deal with the small wound Goodnight gets during that shootout, but nothing graphic.

Upon arriving near Rose Creek, Chisolm stopped the group far enough away that they were not yet in sight of the town or the Bogue mine. From the looks on Goodnight and Horne’s faces, Victoria could assume they had already guessed the reason behind this pause.

“Billy Rocks, what do you say the two of us just waltz in there and kill a bunch of these paid Bogue bullies?”

Billy looked between Chisolm and Goody a couple times, then slowly smiled.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Now, I’ve got a plan. Everybody stay sharp, do as I say, and we might just live through this. Now Mrs.Cullen, Ms.Kenton, Teddy – the three of you don’t need to come. Is there somewhere safe, nearby, where the three of you could sit for about half an hour before you ride in?”

Teddy spoke up first.

“There’s a barn off that way a bit, we could wait there. No one would see us getting to it or waiting. Been empty since Harold Jenkins passed last spring.”

Chisolm nodded.

“Then I expect you to take these two ladies there and wait for about twenty to thirty minutes before you mount up and come into town. Shootin’ should be done by then, and that way we’ll have had a chance to get a read on things.”

Teddy began to move out, Emma following him pretty quickly, though Victoria remained a moment longer before Goodnight turned to her with a smile. The same smile he had after telling Emma not to be nervous.

“Mon cher, this is business for killers. You may be capable with a weapon, but you aren’t a killer. Go on. Take care of your cousin and her gentleman.”

She nodded, reluctant to leave the company though she was beginning to get an idea why Chisolm wanted the three civilians away from the gunfight. Whatever he was planning, he did not want wild cards and without knowledge of just how they would react to a gun fight. Pulling out the small rosary she rarely had made any use of since her father and grandfather sent her off to school, Victoria sent up a good word for the men who had come to save Rose Creek.

Meanwhile, Billy and Chisolm were making their way into town. Chisolm rode in on his black horse, looking every inch the Duly Sworn Warrant Officer, while Billy walked on foot, several feet behind. Chisolm’s plan required everyone to think that Billy was some sort of servant, and he needed everyone to look at the two of them. A black man on a fine horse with equally fine guns, trailed by a ‘mysterious man of the Orient’, they would be sure to draw all the attention in town to their location. Exactly where Chisolm wanted it.

As they came in, he noticed the burned-out Church and the nervous citizens, scrambling away from the main street as Chisolm and Billy got closer to the town’s center. Even the Undertaker scurried off when he saw them. A shopkeep tucked his wife to his side and all but dragged her back into the store. The gunhands, however, seemed to be tracking Chisolm and Billy’s movements. One on the roof to his left, several on the street level, a few at or in the saloon.

The Sheriff and some of the Bogue bullies stepped up, effectively drawing a line to block Chisolm and Billy’s way. They were feeling bold in their numbers, yet Chisolm’s lack of trepidation seemed to be making a couple of them edgy. Twitchy even.

“Afternoon, gentlemen.”

“Town’s got a ban on firearms. Check ‘em in, get ‘em on your way out.”, was the Sheriff’s response to Chisolm’s polite greeting. They were scared.

“You don’t mind me asking, but how is it all of you go so well-heeled?”

“These men are deputies.”

“Awful lot of deputies for such a small place, ain’t it?”

“What’s his story?”, one of the deputies asked as he pointed a thick finger in Billy’s direction. Now Chisolm knew they were scared.

Chisolm engaged them, needing to stall just a tad longer. He wanted to be sure everything was in place before he would make his move. He continued to chat with the deputies for a moment, before swinging down from his horse, leaving it as he moved to offer his gun. He could almost count the twitches of these men who were not sure what to expect. Billy stayed just behind him, ready and poised.

“Absolutely. Law and order, I say.”, he spoke before offering his gun in the showiest way.

“Sheriff?”, the lead bully ordered.

“Now I must tell you that I’m more than happy to cooperate. I can’t say the same thing for my compadres behind you.”

Right on cue, the men spared a glance at each other before turning around to find Goodnight stepping out between two buildings behind the main line, then Vasquez and Faraday coming down from either side of the Bogue mining office. Faraday appeared to be itching for someone to give him an excuse to shoot them. Vasquez calmly leaned against a post, smoking his short cigar.

Next came Horne, walking in opposite of where Faraday and Vasquez stood, his size and manner imposing enough to make the already twitchy bullies begin to lose a few shades of color. One, in particular, seemed to feel the need to puff up in front of his comrades.

“Quite a batch of strays.”, he attempted to joke of Chisolm’s men.

Horne responded in his quiet, higher-pitched tone.

“I’ll say a prayer for you. You know, a little prayer.”, he gestured to indicate the shortness of the puffed-up deputy.

“Yeah.”, the leader of the bullies said. “You’ll make a hell of a rug.”

“And you’ll be murdered,” Faraday offered, “by the world’s greatest lover.”

The tension rose, ratcheting up enough to make everyone’s chest a little tight. The lead deputy asked Chisolm’s purpose. He called them cowards working for the bastard Bogue, making sure to insult them enough to make sure that they were again focusing entirely where Chisolm wanted their attention to be. On him. At the center, ground level.

Finally, the lead Blackstone Agency deputy and the little puffer shared a look between them. The leader drew up his hand and whistled, clearly expecting for his man to pop up and shoot Chisolm down. Nothing happened. The Blackstone agents all looked about. Chisolm held back a smile.

“Guess he didn’t hear you.”, he said in English before giving a command meant for Red Harvest’s ears.

Suddenly, the body of the Blackstone backshooter rose to his feet and then tumbled forward, over the short wall and into the air. He fell with no attempt to stop himself. Red Harvest stood in his place, silent and in war paint. Drawing his bow and arrow, he sent one shot flying into a Blackstone deputy. The man looked at his wound, then stumbled backward and expired in the street.

The deputies all exchanged looks of disbelief, anger, and confusion. This was not what they had expected with what they thought had been superior numbers backed by the fear of Bartholomew Bogue. Now they were the fish in a barrel with real gunmen surrounding them rather than honest farmers and over-worked minors, with no plan and no ability to intimidate the seven hired guns.

Chisolm knew what would come next. He nicked with his teeth and ordered his horse off. The last thing he wanted to happen was for his constant companion to be caught in the crossfire. Once the horse was clear, he waited. If he and the others were still and quiet long enough, someone would get jumpy. These men did not have the same experience and would not know to stay steady. Someone would move for their gun and then it would be on.

Puffer went for his gun and Chisolm drilled a shot into his heart. Trying to jump an already drawn gun was always a losing move.

Chisolm spun to fire at another man and then it was a full-blown gun battle. Faraday took out the one man above him as Vasquez fired with both guns, Billy was throwing knives while Horne took out a man with a hatchet. Chisolm killed a man who was coming up on Faraday’s blindside. Horne flew in from out of nowhere to cover Billy’s back as Billy charged forward with his knives to take out two more men.

As shots rang out from all over the town center, one man rode towards Goodnight, who stood at the end of town with his rifle readied. Red Harvest still watched from above, firing arrows straight into the hearts of any who presented themselves. As Billy moved like lightening, taking out several men with his knives, Red Harvest provided cover fire with his arrows. Chisolm headed into the dance hall, the proprietor and a couple others holding up their hands.

A man came from around the upstairs corner, using a dance hall girl as a human shield while he took aim at Chisolm. Chisolm shot him in the head without hesitation, the body falling down the stairs as the woman screamed and backed up. Another man in the side room made his move and Chisolm shot him before the man could cock his weapon.

Horne barreled into another man, tearing him apart one stab at a time, all the while shouting bits of scripture. Faraday went down the center of the street, firing at the men who were taking aim at Goodnight. Soon, Vasquez and Faraday stood back to back, firing at those who dared come within their range. Chisolm came out in time to see Horne finishing off another man, whom he had knocked from his horse. Faraday and Vasquez separated with the latter heading towards the bank at the corner.

With his back to one of the walls, Vasquez dodged a couple bullets from inside the shop. He could see Jack Horne being fired at and dancing to avoid being punched full of holes. Checking both his guns to make sure they were cocked and ready, Vasquez held them at the ready and grinned. Nothing got the blood pumping like a good gunfight.

He rolled into the double doors, kicking them open without missing a step. First a man to his left moved, then one to his right, and he shot them in the order they presented themselves. Turning back, he strode out towards the street. Spotting another one of the Blackstone agents getting up with their gun rising, Vasquez turned and fired once, killing the man instantly. As there appeared to be no more men left for him to shoot, he spun his guns quickly and replaced them into the holsters.

A few more shots were fired and Red Harvest took out his last man, who died in time to fall from his horse and land at the entryway to the little town graveyard. Billy killed one more man before reclaiming his knives from some of the bodies. One last Blackstone agent rode through, coming right past Goodnight. Despite taking aim, Goodnight did not fire. Vasquez looked, trying to see why Goodnight- one of the most famed sharp shooters of the War, was not firing at a man only a few feet away from him.

As the man rode away, Goodnight took aim again, following the movement of his target. Vasquez was sure that the rifleman would end the agent this time. However, even with Faraday’s encouragement, there was no shot. Billy got between Faraday and Goodnight, taking the rifle. Vasquez wondered if Goodnight had noticed something wrong with his prized rifle or if, as with some of the old soldiers from the War, some ghosts held his trigger finger steady. Unable to pull a trigger the way they had done during the battles that haunted their sleep.

The seven men all came to meet Chisolm at the center of town, where the bank allowed for a view down each street of Rose Creek. Everyone appeared to be cleaning or reloading their weapons, Blackstone agents littering the streets, and the citizens still ducked behind whatever cover they had found when the first shot rang out. Vasquez hung close to Chisolm, keeping his eyes moving in case there were any stragglers.

As everyone rattled off their numbers, Faraday and Vasquez had come in with six a piece. Of course, when the drunken Irishman heard this, he had to add one to his total before reporting it to Chisolm. Vasquez shook his head as he groaned at the antics of this gunslinger Chisolm had hired first and had kept around.

“Wanna try to even it up?”, Faraday added, with a few choice words.

For a man who appeared to have such a low opinion of Mexicans, it seemed he appreciated swear words in the language of Mexico. Vasquez squared up to face Faraday, ready to either shoot or pummel the man into the ground.

“Say when, guero.”

Chisolm interrupted their almost-showdown as he crouched and addressed a man hiding beneath the decking outside a store. It was the sheriff. He must have hidden just as the fighting had begun, Vasquez figured. Or else they would have seen him during the battle and likely someone would have shot him.

“Come on out of there. Come on. COME ON!”

Vasquez noticed that Goodnight had blood on his hand, and Billy was checking on the sharp shooter as Chisolm ordered the Sheriff to drop his gunbelt, gun, and badge. He then directed the former-Sheriff to deliver a message to Bogue. The former-Sheriff did not seem to grasp the seriousness of crossing Sam Chisolm. The rest of them stood in a semi-circle flanking Chisolm, all of them still keeping an eye just in case another Blackstone agent happened to pop up.

“Tell him we have his town, we have his whole valley. He wants it back, he’s gonna have to make a deal with us.”

“He don’t make deals, you can ask anybody here. He’s just gonna send as many men as it takes to squash you flat.”, the former-Sheriff said as if he meant it to send them all running scared.

“We’ll be waiting. In the meantime, you tell him this: Lincoln, like the president. Say it.”

“Lincoln, like the president.”, parroted the former-Sheriff.

“That’s right. Lincoln, Kansas. And you tell him if he don’t show up himself, he ain’t nothing but a yellow-bellied sapsucking coward. Go on, git.”

The former-Sheriff took off his hat to pass between Goodnight and Chisolm, but Chisolm stopped him with a word.

“Hey.”

The former-Sheriff turned to face Chisolm.

“Sam Chisolm. Say it.”

“Sam Chisolm. Yes, sir.”

“Well this is quite the welcome party.”, joked Faraday.

Vasquez looked around, as he stood by Red Harvest, trying to figure out exactly where the citizens had disappeared to.

“Where is everybody?”, he asked.

“I think we killed ‘em all.”, Faraday answered.

Goodnight shrugged. “Just wanna make sure their candle is lit before they blow out the match.”

Vasquez, Red, and Faraday all looked at each other. None could disagree with the logic. They spoke no more till they heard hooves pounding the ground as several horses rode into town. Emma in the lead on her on her pale horse, Teddy trailing her, and Victoria bringing up the rear with her own rifle out and at the ready. Vasquez smiled to himself. He was starting to like this senorita with her smirk and her way with a gun.

“EVERYONE! Come on, COME OUT!”, Emma commanded them.

Teddy echoed with, “Come on out, everybody! What’s a’matter with you all? Don’t you see what they just did?”

As Emma and Teddy continued to shout orders for everyone to come out, the citizens of Rose Creek did begin to ooze out from their hidey-holes and onto the street. It seemed quite a few had been hiding in the cellars below shops, around the back of the wagon shop, and out in the fields just outside of town. Older men, women, children, though not a terribly large number of younger men, considering the total number. Vasquez assumed that Bogue’s men must have killed a larger chunk of the younger men than Chisolm had originally led them to believe. Either that, or those men had run after seeing the others killed.

Victoria dismounted last, her long gaucho pants swaying as she walked up behind Emma. She was tall and steady, while Emma was feisty and proud. Teddy stood a few feet from them, quiet and nonthreatening. Emma addressed the crowd with the company of the Seven behind her and Victoria to her left.

“I have assembled these men, and offered fair pay.”, began Emma.

“Who picked you to deal on our behalf?”, old manner Tanner challenged.

“Seems I was the only one with balls enough to do so.”

Goodnight and the others smiled, all impressed by the young red-head. Sam Chisolm, in particular, seemed very impressed.

“So I did. As I said, these men are here to help us. Mr.Chisolm?”

She stepped aside a bit, clearly intending for him to address the townsfolk. The other six men all exchanged looks, knowing this would be a good show whether he fell on his face or whipped out an amazing speech.

“My name is Sam Chisolm,” he began. “and uh, I’m a duly sworn warrant officer in Wichita, Kansas. Uh, also, a licensed peace officer in the Indian Territories, Arkansas, and seven other states. Now, what happened here was just an opening skirmish. The real battle is yet to come. The idea is that when it comes, it’ll be on our terms.”

“On our terms.”, one of the townsfolk interrupted.

Another stepped forward a bit within the crowd.

“Yeah, there’s no way in hell.”

The blacksmith cut in, “Son of a bitch’ll come back with 200 men and slaughter us all.”

A murmur swept through the crowd, that Emma cut with her own voice.

“If you want to leave, leave.”

Victoria glanced back to see all the seven men Emma had assembled, looked equally impressed. Even Red Harvest and Faraday.

“Just don’t take anything you didn’t bring with you.”

“You want to keep your town,” Chisolm told them, “you’re gonna have to fight for it. Now we’re here to help you, but you got to help us. We’re gonna need every somebody out here to help us fight.”

“Good Lord! Are you suggesting we wait here to face retaliation?”

Teddy answered, “Hell yea, he is.”

When he was met with disbelief, Teddy continued to defend Emma’s plan and Chisolm’s plea for the townsfolk to aid in protecting their own town. A murmur returned, until the minister spoke up.

“Excuse me sir, the spirit here is willing, but we are not killers.”

“That’s right.”, echoed most of the men in the crowd.

“Most aren’t, till they’re looking down the barrel of a gun.”, Chisolm answered to that.

One man talked about his lack of experience with anything shooting back at him, and others also chimed in with similar protests. But the first man added that, when it came down to it, he would defend his home and his neighbors. That seemed to turn the feeling of the crowd more to what Mr.Chisolm needed.

“These men that are gonna come in here, they are going to underestimate you. That’ll be their first mistake.”

A woman stood forward, handing off her baby as she addressed Chisolm.

“That’s all well and good, but we don’t have enough time. Bogue said he’d be back in three weeks, that was eight days ago.”

“One week.”, Chisolm cut in.

The crowd began to panic. Emma was livid.

“Three days’ ride to Sacramento with the bad news, one day for Bogue to plan, three days back. Seven days, that’s all you got.”

Victoria stepped past Emma to address the crowd.

“This is our HOME. We have already shed blood, nearly starved that first winter, and had our loved ones killed for even speaking up against Bogue. Sure, you can leave. You can abandon Rose Creek and go somewhere else. But what happens in four, six years when another Bogue comes along and does the same thing? You gonna pick up and run again? What happens when you reach the end of the map, or when you’re too old, too sick, and too tired to keep running every time someone scary shows up with a few gunhands and some money to throw at the law? Well I am not running. Bogue wants what is mine, he can come and try to take it from me himself, and I will meet him with my guns, standing beside these seven men and anyone here who will stand with us against Bogue. I won’t run like a scared sheep at the sound of a wolf’s howl.”

Everyone looked around at each other, a few hung their heads in embarrassment of their behavior so far. Mr.Chisolm moved forward a bit, taking the chance to speak to the quiet crowd.

“We’ll get started in the morning. Get a good night’s rest. May be your last for a while.”

The crowd dispersed and the six followed Chisolm. Emma stared at her neighbors as a few threw glances her way and Teddy moved to back her, while Victoria stood beside her cousin. The new widow with her babe, shot Emma a look. They had never gotten along before, not even when Emily passed, but Emma had not expected this from the widow.

“She’s grieving, Em. Wouldn’t expect her to be any more reasonable now than she has been in the past.”

“I know. I know.”, she said as she sank back onto the steps behind her.

Victoria moved to sit beside her. Teddy came closer til Victoria waved him off as she shook her head. He gave an awkward nod before heading off, taking their three horses off and leaving Emma to Victoria. The two sat quiet for a moment, till Victoria could not bear it any further.

“Talk to me, Em.”

“Seven days. We’ve got seven days to prepare. Minus today. How will they prepare us for a battle with real gunmen?”

Victoria let out a sigh.

“We’ve got a Rebel Sharp shooter, a Union soldier turned warrant officer, and a former military scout and tracker. I’m sure among the three of them, they know how to train a group to do the basics of a military unit. The other four each have their own tricks up their sleeves. And they’ll have us. We aren’t exactly helpless in a fight.”

“I wish we had more time.”

Victoria let out a long breath, a sad smile on her lips.

“Most do.”

Emma’s eyes began to water as Victoria realized her mistake. Reaching, she pulled her cousin to her side, allowing Emma to rest her sweaty cheek against Victoria’s shoulder. First, they had to bury everyone, then there had been the preparations for their journey, the attempts to find anyone who would help them, and the ride back. Emma had been too busy to mourn. Victoria suspected that when this was all over, Emma was going to finally break. For now, just a couple tears of exhaustion, before they would retire.

“Don’t worry Em. Chisolm and the others will get this town whipped into shape for the battle. We’ll be ready when Bogue and his men come.”

She felt Emma let out a long sigh, the stiffness of her posture fading away as she sank into Victoria’s side. They had a big day tomorrow and they would need plenty of rest. She only hoped Emma would allow herself to sleep tonight and that Chisolm really did know what he was doing.

*^*^*^*^*^*

They all gathered again in the hotel’s dining room, over plates of beans and some meat. Everyone eagerly tucked into their food except for Red Harvest. To Vasquez, this meal was almost a taste of Heaven, after so long living off what he could afford to keep in his saddle bags, supplementing with what he could find or kill on the road. He did not intend to waste even half a bite. Emma and the others served them, yet Vasquez noticed Victoria was not among the women cooking or serving. Even Teddy had come to eat, though he kept off to himself rather than sitting at the table with the seven of them.

“Like being in one of them damn zoos.”, Faraday commented.

For once, Vasquez had to agree with the drunken gambler.

“Fame is a sarcophagus.”, Goody commented before tossing back a shot.

Jokes were exchanged as they ate, a relaxed atmosphere attempting to overtake the weariness and anxiousness they had been feeling at their precarious situation and the odds they would soon face. No one else came in to eat with the gunhands, just Teddy by the bar, and the women who cooked and served. Vasquez was one of the first to finish his food, leaving with an order from Chisolm to check the East side of the town while Red was told to check the West before going to rustle up his own meal. Vasquez was fine with the arrangement, as Goodnight and Faraday were beginning to feel their liquor and it was doing Faraday no favors to have someone to joke with who was just as drunk as he.

The moon illuminated the town fairly well, along with the bit of light coming from some of the windows as Vasquez passed. Once he had made his way to the opposite end of town and had come most of the way back, he heard the sound of someone humming. A woman. Following his ears, he saw an unexpected sight. Victoria Kenton, wearing her dirty gauchos and pale-yellow shirt, her feet bear without stockings or shoes, her sleeves rolled past her elbows, and her hair down in a simple braid behind her neck. With her hair having been bundled and pinned to the back of her head their whole trip, Vasquez had failed to realize how long it was.

Watching, he realized she was setting up a hot bath in the back room of the Medicine shop. He recalled her commenting to Faraday that she owned and operated the little shop, having spent all her savings on it once they arrived out west. For a moment, he wondered if she intended to take a bath and he was torn between continuing to watch and giving her the privacy she had been denied all through the trip with Emma and Teddy.

“Mr.Vasquez?”

He snapped out of his thoughts, seeing that he had been spotted.

“Pardon, Senorita. Red and I were sent to check on the town and I heard humming. It seemed out of place, and… I was surprised to find it was you.”

She blushed slightly, he noticed, ducking her head as she passed him to get behind the counter. She plucked several items out of little shelves and cubby spaces before straightening with the items in her hands.

“I’m drawing Emma a bath. She’s staying her tonight and I would rather neither of us stink up my shop with our filthy bodies. Since she was serving your all’s dinner, I thought she ought to get the first bath. I’ll get mine after she’s had a chance to clean up.”

“Do you have another tub?”, he asked.

Some women, especially those who had a shop or children, had two of the half-barrel tubs they could wash in. Some women he had known, had one for bathing the family and a second to handle clothes, dishes, and other items.

“I do, why?”

“I could help you fill a second one. That way you would not have to wait for her to finish and then empty and refill it before you could take your own bath, then get to sleep. At this rate, you’ll be two in the morning getting to bed.”

Again, she blushed slightly, but wiped at her forehead with the back of her wrist. Vasquez was sure this was inappropriate to a white woman, though he felt compelled to offer some assistance.

“Alright. But on one condition.”

“Yes?”

“When this is over, you’ll let me wash that shirt. It needs some attention and I have a soap that smells like lemongrass. Keeps the flies away.”

He grinned.

“It is a deal, Senorita.”

*^*^*^*^*^*

Victoria had just finished her bath and dressed in a simple shirt and old slacks that had made Matthew look completely scandalized the first time he found her working in them, beside Emma, when the two women had been preparing the house for the impending birth of little Emily Nicole. They never mentioned the wee girl anymore, however Victoria had been aware that Matthew and Emma had been open to another baby, of late. Too late, unfortunately. Victoria went outside, to enjoy some fresh air and quiet, allowing Emma some time alone upstairs. No prying eyes, no comments from Faraday, no concerned pestering from Teddy.

Just as Victoria settled into the rocking chair out back of her shop, she heard a whispered curse. Turning her head, she spotted Mr.Robicheaux coming out of the back of the bar. He was shoving something into the armpit of his jacket, by the looks of it, and gritting his teeth. Even in the dark it was obvious he had been hurt.

“Mr.Robicheaux?”

He turned, startled. Then his face calmed as he realized who had called out to him.

“Ms.Kenton, I did not see you there.”

She smiled softly. In old gray pants and a faded navy shirt, she doubted anyone would notice her right off.

“Come inside. I’m sure I have something for whatever ails you. Were you hurt today, or is it a rheumatism?”

Goodnight pulled the handkerchief away from his body as he stepped up onto her back porch. The blood was obvious on the cloth, despite the lack of light.

“Come.”, she beckoned as she rose from her seat.

Goodnight made no protest as he followed her into the shop. Two half-barrels sat with dirty, soapy water in them as if a pair had taken baths, her counters were tall and clean as a preacher’s collar, and her shop seemed well stocked, with a couple lamps lit inside to give a soft, warm glow to the main room. Ms.Kenton retrieved a couple bottles, a little kit in rolled leather, and a small lamp. Goodnight could not recall when he had last seen such a small oil lamp. Perhaps back in New Orleans, being carried by the last lady who he had bedded before the War, as she sneaked him past her mother’s room.

“That is a fine piece, Ms.Kenton.”, he commented.

“Oh, I’ve got a small box of them in the back. I bought them on a whim. There was a salesman last year, he was trying to unload some of his stock in favor of going into the gun business. I was more than happy to help him rid himself of these small lamps no one else wanted. Here, do you need help removing your coat?”

He shook his head, carefully peeling the article off, then unbuttoning his vest and removing it as well. He also removed his hat, out of habit from his good breeding, and sat on a stool. Ms.Kenton moved to sit on one beside him, turned to face his shoulder as she unrolled her little leather-covered kit, on the nearby countertop. He saw that they were the same tools a surgeon might have and some were more what he would expect seamstresses and tailors to have, meant for stitching fine lace or silk.

“Those are nicely kept, Ms.Kenton.”

“Thank you. I’ve found myself doing a lot of doctoring since we set up in town, with no doctor right here to do it for us. May I unbutton your shirt? I do not have a very good view.”

He did it for her, pulling the shoulder and sleeve away for her to get a better look. She nodded her thanks as she got her lamp and brought it closer, to better illuminate the injury. Goodnight looked, seeing that it was mostly a graze and had not gotten into his meat. Not that he had a lot of meat on his bones, these days. Back in his courting days before the War, he had been developing a small belly and a rounded face, to match that of his father. Now, whenever he looked in the mirror to shave, he found his haggard grandfather looking back at him.

Ms.Kenton moved to clean the wound, her fingers warm and gentle, her eyes focused. Goodnight watched her work. There was a rhythm to her movements that was a bit soothing. He wished he had her soft touch, when he tended Billy’s occasional wound. Perhaps he would talk Ms.Kenton into giving him a lesson or two, in mending, before they left. If they survived, that was. Then he could do a better job doctoring Billy if the man needed it.

Speaking of the devil, Goodnight glanced up to see Billy walking in the front door of the shop, a freshly rolled and lit cigarette in his hand. He handed it off to Goodnight as he watched Ms.Kenton working. She spared Billy a quick glance and smile, before returning her full attention back to Goodnight’s wounded ribs. It was not quite up in his armpit, though close enough that he had been able to hide it from most everyone.

“Ms.Kenton is ensuring I do not expire before we begin training our legion.”

Billy nodded, enough sarcasm in his face to make it clear what he thought of their chances tomorrow. Goody just smiled at his companion. Within a couple more minutes, Ms.Kenton had him entirely stitched up with some odd smell ointment over the wound, then a bandage she had tied well to him. She pressed a bottle into Billy’s hand as she stood up.

“Make sure he applies that every night before bed. I’d also recommend checking the bandage in the morning, to make sure the wound isn’t too swollen or red, and that the stitches are holding. I sometimes tie my bandages a little tight, and I would hate for him to lose a finger because my work cut off his circulation overnight.”

Billy smiled, nodding.

“I’ll take care of him. Come on, Goody. I’ve got a room waiting for us over the bar.”

“Oh, well how fortunate we are. Thank you, Ms.Kenton. What do I owe you for the ointment and the doctoring?”

She shook her head.

“You received that wound in service of my home and my neighbors. Your money is no good here. Now get. I am too tired to keep arguing with you.”

He nodded, collecting his effects once he was standing with his shirt buttoned again.

“Enchontee, mon cher. Rest well and pleasant dreams.”

“To you, as well, Mr.Robicheaux. And to you, Mr.Billy.”

“Just, Billy, ma’am.”

“In that case, you are both to call me Victoria.”

They nodded, then headed out, with Billy keeping a hand on Goody as they walked out. They were halfway back to the saloon when Goody stopped, looking to admire the sky above them.

“This wouldn’t be such a bad place to die, you know? Beautiful. Quiet. Nice people.”

“No owls.”

“No. No owls. Not yet.”

“Enough. To bed.”, Billy ordered.

They walked further down, coming up to the back door of the saloon and hotel, and going up to their shared room. Faraday and Chisolm were sharing a room across from them. Red Harvest and Jack Horne were both opting to sleep in tents outside. Goody assumed Horne preferred the tent due to his size compared to the narrow, short, hard beds in the hotel rooms. He had no idea where Vasquez was sleeping, as he had not seen the man since Sam gave he and Red Harvest their orders after they finished dinner, and Faraday had broken out the stronger liquor.

“We are to train our army in the morning, Billy. Are you overcome yet, with anticipation?”

“No.”

“Neither am I.”, he confessed before allowing Billy to guide him back into the narrow bed. It was so narrow that even Goody felt like a giant as he lay in it. He wondered how any man took one of the dance hall girls up here to have his wicked ways with her. Even his imagination failed to understand how such narrow beds were conducive to such purposes. Though, he supposed, the saloon and hotel seemed more for locals to drink and the occasional traveler to sleep. The saloon and brothel on the other end of town, appeared more for finding a dance hall girl to purchase the services of.

Billy helped Goody remove his shoes, as he had only limited use of his left arm, between the injury and the bandage, and then he helped Goody change into the long shirt he slept in. Once they had Goody situated, Billy removed his weapons, boots, and clothes, sleeping in a thin pair of longjohns. They had quite the day ahead of them, followed by another five, before they would go to war again.

“Billy?”

“Yeah.”

“When this is over, assuming we were to survive it all, do you think this town could handle the likes of us?”

“Maybe.”

“Think they would welcome us? Knowing that we are killers and drinkers, with no skills for living an honest life, in polite society?”

There was a pause.

“If we save them, they might overlook our faults.”

“An interesting idea.”

“Go to sleep, Goody.”

“Grouch.”

“Sleep.”

“Fine. Fine. Pleasant dreams.”

A snort was the only response he received.


	5. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raiding the mine to free the miners and get supplies, Faraday & Goody teaching the townsfolk to shoot, Emma, Victoria, and one of the windows tending to the miners, and Faraday's conversation with Emma about fix pounds of pressure and the nightmares that never go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:
> 
> Remember those miners that had injuries to their hands, heads, etc.? Yeah, I'll be talking about them and the treating of their wounds, as well as how such wounds were treated during the American Civil War though I will stay clear of gross details for the most part. Also discusses the 'ghosts' of PTSD from the War, alcoholism, and other unhealthy coping methods.

The next morning, the Seven sat out front of the same shop Chisolm had made his speech on the porch of the prior afternoon. They watched as several wagons, loaded with goods and folk, drove out of town. None of them could truly fault the townsfolk for preferring to leave over staying to fight. Especially the one wagon that held no menfolk at all. A widow woman, her 12 year old daughter, 8 year old daughter, and a toddler, with an old, white-haired matron in the back.

Another wagon, holding two coffins, paused for the undertaker to give the driver instructions. Instructions to go up to Boot Hill to bury the two bodies in their simple wood coffins. Faraday shook his head.

“Looks like the Undertaker’s going to get some business out of this.”, he joked as he watched the saloon girls loading up to leave for another town.

“Who’d have thought we would travel this many miles just to have the good people of Rose Creek turn tail and leave us to die?”, Goodnight quietly mused as they all watched the exodus.

“Well, some people have died for much less.”, commented Jack as he sat at the far end of the porch.

Vasquez noticed Sam moving away from his preferred post to lean on, looking around as Jack and the others watched. Vasquez had figured their odds were terrible before he came and did not allow the scared townsfolks’ running off, to take away from the pleasure of real coffee. It was still out of an old tin cup, yet it had been made by the hotel manager, rather than Faraday or Teddy, over a campfire, with old rations.

Then, down towards the burned-out Church, another group of townsfolk. This one well-armed and lead by the red-headed widow who hired them. Emma Cullen and her Rose Creek brigade. Vasquez smiled as he noticed who was at Emma’s side. Victoria, with her Henry rifle in one hand and a knife on her opposite hip.

“Behold,”, Goodnight announced, “our army approaches.”

“Oh good, they brought their pitchforks. We may stand a chance, after all.”, Faraday sarcastically offered.

Unlike the rest of them, Jack chuckled. Though Vasquez was sure that Jack did not find the sarcastic crack funny, so much as he had figured out something about Faraday that amused him. He then raised his head Heavenward and offered a little prayer of sorts.

“Lord, keep me from judgement.”

The group then moved out, with Sam giving orders about which groups of men from the town would go with which members of their group. Faraday and Goodnight would oversee those learning to be the rifleshots. A smaller group of men would go with Billy, and he would teach them to make use of knives and farm implements to be weapons. They would train these men, as best they could.

And by 10 in the morning of the second day, they had lined up a group of them. Faraday had put them through their paces in the early hours, making sure they at least knew how to hold their guns, how to load them, and how to properly sit behind something to shoot. Jack and Teddy had helped put together some quick targets of sticks with hay-filled sacks making up chests and heads to fire at. Goodnight stood at the end of the line of men, giving orders as if he were a major.

“FIRE! FIRE!”, he cried out, ahead of the roar from three dozen guns going off, not all exactly at once.

Faraday watched. Surely with these townspeople shooting, the safest place to be was right in front of the targets. It seemed impossible that so many of them were firing at such a small number of stationary targets, yet not a one of them held a bullet hole. One man fell back as he fired, losing his hat in the process. Faraday shook his head as Goodnight shamed the shotgun-wielding farmer.

Having already sorted out those who had fought in the war, from those who had little to no experience with a weapon, Faraday had expected the ones he, Sam, and Goodnight were working with would be a little rough. He had not, however, expected it to be this abysmal. Jack and Billy were working with the old soldiers. Faraday found himself a bit jealous of the two.

Goodnight gave them another talking to, dismissing a man who fired prematurely and then foolishly pointed the weapon at Goodnight’s feet as he was attempting to make his hasty escape. Once Goodnight had given a refresher on how slowly they were to squeeze the triggers, he ordered them to fire when ready, then shouted for them to fire. Another volley ensued and not a target was hit.

“Bless their hearts.”, Faraday sighed.

“That’s hard to do.”, Goodnight began, “This many men, and miss that many targets. Twice? I’m looking at a line of dead men.”

He took in a breath, raising his voice as he screamed, “YOU GOTTA HATE WHAT YOU’RE FIRING AT!”

He breathed again.

“HATE IT! Come on! Get some gravel in your craw”, he ordered.

Faraday picked up a rifle, moving towards the line. Vasquez and Victoria watched as they headed up from the horses, having been going through the belongings of the dead Blackthorn agents, for anything of use. Extra bullets, gun powder, even a spare rifle if there were any, had been Chisolm’s order to them. They had found three rifles, several bags of bullets and powder, as well as some strong but cheap liquor in the one man’s saddlebags.

“These men need inspiration!”, Faraday called out as he approached Goodnight.

Vasquez had a bad feeling about what was to happen. As much as Faraday and Goodnight appeared to get along and easily joke when drunk together, the two Confederates lately were grating on each other. Vasquez did not think this interaction would end with the two men becoming the best of pals. And Billy was not here to intercede.

“Inspire them. You are Goodnight Robicheaux, after all. Aint’cha?”, he issued as he shoved the rifle into Goodnight’s hands.

Goodnight said something back, though Vasquez could not hear it. Whatever it was, Faraday was unmoved.

“Twenty-three confirmed kills at Antietam.”, Faraday called to the men. “This is one of Connolly’s Confederate sharpshooters. Dubbed ‘The Angel of Death’. Do what he does. He’s a legend”

Faraday added something else that seemed to made a mighty anger rise in Goodnight, though Vasquez could only guess what it had been. Then, suddenly, Goodnight ripped the weapon from Faraday’s hands, took aim, and rapidly fired several rounds into a target scarecrow. Once it was done, Goodnight shoved the weapon into Faraday’s chest and marched off.

“Told ya!”

Faraday turned the line of impressed men.

“Y’all go home. Polish your rifles, maybe the glint’ll scare ‘em off.”

Faraday walked over, as if heading towards Goodnight, but Chisolm stopped him. Faraday gave the warrant officer a questioning look.

“You’ve done enough.”, Sam quietly answered.

Vasquez walked off to join Jack, Billy, and Red out by the one barn they were considering the possible uses of in the upcoming battle. Victoria started to walk up, intending to give Chisolm a report of the supplies she and Vasquez had found when she felt a hand on her arm. Turning, she saw Emma. She had lost track of her cousin since this morning, when Mr.Chisolm began handing out orders.

“What’s wrong?”, she asked Emma.

Emma looked between Victoria and Vasquez, then back to Victoria.

“You and the outlaw, Mr.Vasquez.”

“Mr.Chisolm ordered us to check the saddlebags and such the Blackthorn agents left behind. And to go over the horses, see which ones were in good shape and might of use, and which ones weren’t. He wanted to take stock of what all we have available to use.”

“You and Mr.Vasquez seem to spend a lot of time together, at the camps, now here.”

“Emma, he helped me get water into the tubs last night and Mr.Chisolm ordered me to help him today. We both know I don’t need the practice shooting like those men definitely do. It is hardly as if Mr.Vasquez and I were out until the dawn, alone in a buggy on a back street.”

“No. But I have seen the way you look at him, how easily you converse with him. Remember, Vic, he’s an outlaw. When this is over, he’ll go back to being on the run, always trying to stay one step ahead of the law. Your life is here, Vic.”

Victoria didn’t know if she wanted to growl, stomp her foot, or laugh. She liked most of the men Mr.Chisolm had collected for this job. And Mr.Vasquez, in particular, had been rather helpful and kind to her. She saw no reason to be rude or ungrateful to him. And she saw no reason to treat any of these men with anything less than friendship, in light of what they were risking for her home.

“Emma, I… Just… I’m going to go talk to Mr.Chisolm now. I’ll see you at dinner.”

She marched off, not wishing to speak to Emma any longer, for fear she would say something she could not take back. Instead, she stepped up to Mr.Chisolm and began reciting the list of what she and Vasquez found. When she was finished, Chisolm smiled.

“That was more than I had expected. Three times as much.”

“These men have a lot of money to throw around, I suppose they liked the feeling of security they get from having lots of extra bullets and a couple extra guns. Not that it did them much good against you when you arrived.”

Chisolm nodded.

“No, it didn’t.”

He leaned in closer, having watched Emma walk off angrily and how Victoria appeared to be ignoring her cousin. The women had been so protective of each other and so close, it seemed odd to see them acting this way now. Granted, women always had been somewhat of a mystery to Chisolm. Even his own sister’s mind had been an enigma to him, at times.

“I noticed Emma speaking to you a minute ago. Is everything alright?”

“Yes. She is concerned I am going to make bad choices for my future. She forgets that I am the more cautious of the two of us.”

Sam nodded.

“And the one more likely to kill somebody.”

Victoria shook her head.

“Not entirely. I’m the one more likely to do it with less provocation. Emma is the one most likely to shoot someone dead, rather than winging them. She’s good enough, she could wing them, but she won’t.”

Victoria handed an item to Chisolm, grinning a little. It was a box of matches.

“There’s dynamite and some other things we might find useful, right across the lake. Gotta do a lot of blasting in this rocky ground, if you want gold.”

Sam smiled. She had a point. Bogue kept the supplies for his bullies and his miners within the mine area. There were likely a few extra guns and rounds, and well as boxes of dynamite and fuses. Things that they could use to help even the odds when Bogue’s men came in a few days.

“Good thinking, Ms.Kenton. Who knew you had the mind of a bank robber?”

“Emma.”, she said with a wink and grin, before walking off.

Sam moved to go collect his men. They had some supplies to get.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sitting atop the hill, they looked over the two and made their assessments. Goodnight called it a box of death. Presently, Sam could not argue against that. Less than half the men in town could shoot the proverbial broad side of a barn, maybe one-tenth of the women could shoot decently, possibly nine of the men had been in the War with the rest having never dealt with gunmen aside from being bullied by Bogue’s men, and not a single one in the bunch had any real experience with dynamite. Sam was beginning to accept that this would not end well.

“How about you?”, Vasquez asked of Faraday, the only one who had yet to comment on the sorry state of things.

“Reminds of this fella I used to know. Fell off a five-story building. Passed each floor on the way down, people inside heard him say, ‘So far, so good!’. He’s dead now.”

Sam and everyone had to agree, no way to survive that.

“I make good on my horse yet, Sam?”

“So far, so good. Let’s go get some ammo.”

They started around the town, to head towards the mine when Sam spotted Victoria, holding her rifle and a small box, standing right where they had to pass her. Sam pulled up, the other six flanking him.

“You look ready for a war, Ms.Kenton.”

“More like a raid.”

“May I ask why?”

“When your men go in there, they could have a surprise or two waiting for you. And I assume your plan for going in is something along the lines of just riding in, shooting the bad men, and getting the supplies that are to be had.”

“That is about it.”

“What if you left someone, up high, with a rifle? Just to make sure no one comes in behind any of you.”

Sam let out a long sigh. She had a point. Earlier, he might have put Goodnight on such a spot. However, with the legendary sharp-shooter having issues pulling the trigger of late, Sam was left without a sharp shooter.

“Are you any good?”

“I took down a cougar at 100 yards, when it was coming after Emma’s chickens this winter.”

“Daytime or night?”

“Twilight.”

Sam nodded. If she was at least that good, using a weapon she was familiar with- though not meant to have the distance accuracy of Goodnight’s rifle, she would be a good use to them. And if what she had said earlier and her determination that day when she took aim at Vasquez, were any indication, Ms.Kenton had no problem pulling the trigger on someone aiming to harm someone she cared about.

“You can come. But you stay where I put you, up on the cliff with your rifle. Anyone of Bogue’s moves after we start in, you clear the path.”

She nodded. Sam urged his horse forward, most of the rest following him. Vasquez came over to Victoria, stopping his horse there and holding out a hand to her.

“Here.”

She took his offered hand. She gave him the gun and the bullets, which he held in his lap with the heel of his left hand that also held the reins, his right moving to help her up onto the horse as he moved his foot to allow her to use the stirrup. With his help, she swung herself up behind him, and he gave her back the rifle and bullets. Then, he felt her right arm move around his middle. He tried not to smile. It had been a very long time since a pretty girl had ridden with him, pressed against him with an arm around his middle.

“Let’s go.”, he said as he started the horse forward to catch up with the other six.

They rode up to where they could not quite yet be seen by Bogue’s men at the mine. Sam looked around and Vasquez watched him. He had been surprised Sam agreed to let Ms.Kenton come along, though with Goodnight hesitating to shoot those who were ready to kill them, Chisolm was in a corner with no clear way out.

“Here.”, Chisolm said, indicating a spot to his right.

“Ms.Kenton, this is your position. You’ll have a clear view of most of the mining camp, though you won’t have a clear line to see us when we first ride in. We’ll make our path in, you make sure they are confused.”

She smiled slightly.

“You giving me permission to cause a distraction, Mr.Chisolm?”

“Yes I am, Private Kenton.”

“Yes, sir.”

She dismounted, with a little help from Vasquez. He returned her rifle and bullets to her once she was on the ground, and leaned to give her one piece of advice.

“The minors, they probably will not scatter or move much once this gets started. They’ll stay still when things blow up and they get scared.”

She nodded, giving him a small smile. She then turned to the group and told them all, “Good luck, gentlemen.”

Jack looked at her, pointing a meaty finger her way.

“You stay up here, like Sam said. You hear?”

She nodded.

“I will. Don’t worry.”

“And if someone comes up behind you?”, Jack asked.

“Then I’ll shoot ‘em or stab them. Now go. Y’all have a job to do.”

“Give us five minutes to get into position, then give ‘em whatfor.”, Sam told her.

“Yes, sir.”

The men moved to follow Sam back down to the gap they would ride in through once Ms.Kenton had created their distraction. She waited a minute until she couldn’t hear the Seven anymore, then she laid down on her belly and took stock of the scene below. Victoria waited, noticing how the men reacted to the explosions and listening to the timing. Quickly finding the rhythm of the blasts from the mines, she counted off and fired, taking down one man from his horse. He fell, causing some confusion from the men around him, both Bogue’s riders and the poor miners. However, no one had heard a gunshot and for the moment, they appeared to think it had been anything but a bullet.

The first of Bogue’s men who investigated, rode off with his own rifle in hand. Victoria trailed him with her own and counted off, firing as the next blast went off. He fell from his running horse. Now the miners were figuring out there was a gun in play, rather than just accidents one expected with dynamite blasting at a mine. They were all looking around, trying to find the shooter.

Now that she was not looking to pick off a few by surprise, she fired at another while everyone was figuring out where in the cliffs the shooter was. Her target went down like a load of bricks. The next was a man running out of the Mining Company building with his gun in hand. Victoria killed him with a single shot. She took down another who had been on his horse, to the far right. Most of the miners looked around, seeming more confused than concerned. Some still went about, doing their jobs, as if nothing was happening. Victoria wasn’t sure which one broke her heart more.

Then, she watched as the miners spotted the Seven coming in. They probably thought this was going to be a hostile takeover by a rival of Bogue’s. In a minute, Mr.Chisolm would assuage their fears. Victoria kept an eye out, as Chisolm and the others rode in, making sure no one would sneak up behind them or be seated up somewhere like she was.

The men rode in, taking stock of the mine and the men left standing. Most of the miners looked so rawboned and ragged that it was a wonder any of them had the strength to stand, let alone work. Though, Vasquez knew from personal experience, if you had enough armed men bearing down on you, it was possible to do quite a lot. Some of the men leaned on others, some appeared to be missing a hand or foot, and a few weren’t white. Vasquez was surprised to find so many of them were white. He had thought they would all be Mexican or Black, given where they were.

He checked the dead men they rode past, noticing that nearly all of them had been shot through the heart. Only one appeared to have been shot directly in the center of his body. All fatal within seconds of the shot being fired. Victoria had done well. Though, Vasquez wondered, where a medicine shop owner developed the skill and the grit to kill like this. He hoped she was not up on the hill, shaking like a leaf, becoming ill at the realization she had taken lives.

They rode further in, and Jack took notice of a hangman’s gallows, with a rope tied and waiting. What terrible fear these men must have lived in, that not one of them appeared affected by the cruel device or the long, dark shadow it cast over them. Even the horses barely looked to be in good enough shape for this work. The men staying in tents with holes and no sign of campfires or small stoves to keep warm or cook over. Jack wondered how these men were still alive.

As the miners walked up to them, Jack was struck by how young some of them were. Some were younger than his son would be. One of the young men leaned against another, his eye buried beneath a wad of bloody cloth tied to his head by a dirty, bloody rag. A few of their hats and clothes suggested to him that a couple of these men may have been recent immigrants to this country. He wondered if they even spoke English. He had met a man from some place called Germany, once. The man barely spoke English and his own language had sounded harsh in Jack’s ears, though the man was quite the trapper and tracker. And a good man, though he was not much for conversation during the blizzard that trapped them together for two weeks.

“This mine is closed! You men are free to go.”, Chisolm pronounced to them.

His proclamation was met with looks of fear, confusion, and blank defeat. Jack was reminded of so many he saw returning from the War. When they had been told to ‘go home’ and realized there was no home to go back to. That Sherman had destroyed it or that their family back East had been taken by cholera, with the soldiers themselves forever altered by their time in war. That devastated, hopeless, blank look. These men before him looked just as hollowed out. He ducked his head slightly to say a prayer for them.

“Or, you can stay and fight.”, Chisolm offered these miners.

Faraday, in an uncharacteristic show of mercy, pulled the alcohol from his own saddle bag and tossed it to one of the miners. Jack figured they would probably use it more for medicinal purpose than drinking, seeing as how many of these men had crude bandages over nasty injuries.

Once they had said their piece to the miners, the seven of them moved to where Bogue’s men had horded the dynamite and other supplies. Jack wondered if there might also be food and other essentials there. It was not unheard-of for mining bosses to do that. Stockpiling supplies for themselves likes warlords of old, while the workers starved and went about in little more than their threadbare underthings.

Billy walked up to the door first, kicking it in once Vasquez had opened the lock with a pick. It seemed their company was full of surprises. They were greeted with a room near full with explosives, fuses, and other supplies. Jack noticed ropes, nails, and even plungers to set off the dynamite.

“This will help.”, Billy dryly pronounced.

“I’ve always wanted to blow something up.”, said Faraday.

Jack didn’t doubt it. They probably all had wanted to blow something up at one point or another in their lives. The chuckle that echoed through the group was testament enough to that. Billy stepped forward first, heading off to gather their loot. Everyone followed in quickly behind him. They all began taking stock and gathering items to load onto one of the nearby wagons. A couple of the more able-bodied miners walked over to Chisolm. The taller one spoke first, the short, stocky one quiet beside him.

“Sir?”

“Yes.”, Chisolm turned to face them.

“Are you looking to fight against Bogue? When he comes back?”

“Yes. We’ve been hired by the townsfolk to make Bogue understand this is not his land or town.”

“We’d like to help, those of us able to. If you’ll have us, sir.”

“We’ll have you. Any of them men in need of tending, put them in the wagons, and we’ll all head back to town together. I’m sure they’ll welcome anyone willing to throw in with them. Any guns Bogue’s men had, gather them up and bring them along. Horses too.”

The tall man nodded.

“Yes, sir. We’ll do that. You want us to put the bodies in the shafts, or leave ‘em lay?”

“Leave them. Birds get hungry too.”

“Yes, sir.”

The two miners walked off and Chisolm turned, seeing the glint from Victoria’s Henry. Waving, he gestured for her to come down. There were no more of Bogue’s men, or they would have shown themselves by now. He saw the wave of her rifle and knew she was coming down. Sam turned back to the other six, all working to get the gun powder, dynamite, fuses, plungers, rope, and other supplies out. Faraday pointed out three barrels of whiskey and another three of beer, tucked behind some of the gun powder.

Sam helped, while making note of just how much they had from this haul. They would be able to come up with the surprises as Vasquez suggested, and possibly to melt the elements as Jack has suggested with his Biblical reference earlier. Both men were tricky and accustomed to out-thinking and out-sneaking predators. Sam was counting on that in the upcoming fight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As they rode back into town, Victoria had stayed up in one wagon, helping tend one of the miners who was losing a good deal of blood from the injury to his shoulder. Sam did not like the man’s odds, though he figured at least he would likely die in a bed, clean and comfortable, tended by a woman’s hand rather than the boot of one of Bogue’s men. They made a pitiful train behind the seven, as the miners trailed behind on the ride back to Rose Creek. Sam estimated that a dozen of the men would be in able enough condition when Bogue returned, to help stand and fight. The other dozen would be dead or too badly off to be of any use.

As they rode and walked in, the people of Rose Creek stopped to stare. Teddy was up on a ladder, putting the sign of the former owner overtop the Bogue-Mining Company sign, indicating that things were returning to what they had been prior to Bogue’s interference. Emma stood on a stoop with a family, their two children watching intently as the miners came in behind Sam and his men. Jack rode close with the wagon, driven by the taller miner who had offered services to Sam and company, in the fight against Bogue.

Despite how quiet it had been coming in, Sam did not expect it to stay that way. They rode up to the empty saloon and dance hall, now in a sad state without women or music, and only the cowardly, sniveling proprietor in residence. They all dismounted, making to head into the dance hall. Of course as they did, the sniveling proprietor stepped up, instantly getting in Sam’s way.

“Mr.Chisolm, what’s this?”, he asked.

“Reinforcements.”

“What’s that on the wagon?”

“Dynamite.”

“DYNAMITE? Where you gonna put that stuff?”, he asked as he watched some of the miners removing it from the wagon.

“Your place.”

“MY PLACE! Why my place?”

Sam did not answer, though he wanted to say it was purely because the place was empty. They all knew he had chosen the Elysium Hotel because it had been bought and paid for by Bogue, so if a place to was to go up, that ought to be the place. However, neither shop abutting it was inhabited at present, the hotel itself was empty except for the proprietor, and there was nothing directly in front of or behind the Elysium. This made it the safest spot in town, to store the explosives.

Looking over, Sam noticed Emma coming over, along with the widow woman who had been so snotty to Emma earlier, to help Victoria with the miners. It seemed that despite their differences, the women were bound to come together when they were in need of each other. Sam smiled. It did him good to see this. He went back to helping get the dynamite taken care of, leaving the injured miners to Victoria, Emma, and the widow he had yet to properly meet.

The miners brought in those who couldn’t walk in on their own steam, with Victoria and Emma getting them directed as to where to go, and the third woman, Ginny, helping some of the men lay down. Ginny had been the daughter of a tailor back East, and stitched a fine hand. Victoria figured before the day was out, she would have need of Ginny’s stitching skills. Her own were not too bad, though she did not have the skill to leave minimal scarring. Emma was always better at stitching.

“Ginny?”

The woman came over, and Victoria indicated the man she was currently helping lean on a stool.

“I’ll need to clean and sew his wound. Can you get my pack from behind the counter?”

Ginny went to retrieve it, looking at the wound with Victoria as Victoria pulled the grimy cloth away from it. Both women failed to fully suppress their repulsion at the jagged edges of the wound. It was fresh, which Victoria presently counted as a large blessing. It had not existed long enough to get a terrible infection, as many of the others’ wounds had.

“Victoria, if you’ll leave me some tools and whatever you would clean this with, I’ll tend to him and let you get to the others. This is a simple wound, I can handle it.”

Victoria nodded, then pulled out a bottle from behind another counter and handed it to Ginny.

“Here. Put a few drops on a cloth till the cloth is wet enough to easily read through, then clean out the wound. When you’re satisfied, begin stitching. I have alcohol in a green bottle over in that cabinet, you can clean the needles before and after with the alcohol. It’ll sting, but it will ward off infections.”

Ginny nodded, resolute. Victoria offered her, then the miner a small smile.

“You’re in good hands, sir. She’s the best seamstress in Rose Creek.”

He smiled at them, and nodded, looking so tired that Victoria was surprised he was still awake. Moving to the next miner, Victoria found that he was missing a finger and the wound had become terribly infected. Even with her intervention, he might well lose the hand. At the best, he would likely lose most of the function of the next finger. Emma came over to get her, as there was a younger miner, with a funny hat and a confused expression. He had a large, deep cut running down his forearm.

“He doesn’t speak English.”, Emma informed her.

Victoria had not been good with languages. One of her many deficits back in Ladies Finishing School. She attempted first a little French, then some Italian. Neither seemed to mean a thing to the man. Victoria opted for the oldest trick in the book. Pointing to herself, she said her name. Then pointing to Emma, she said Emma’s. The man nodded, pointing to himself with his uninjured arm.

“Pavel.”

She sighed. Russian. She had been slightly better at understanding those with a Russian accent than she was with those who had French or Italian accents at her school, though she faired no better with the actual language. Nodding to the man, with her best friendly smile, she gestured to his arm and made a face like someone had broken hers. He nodded empathically. So his arm hurt badly. She nodded, then gestured to the cloth and ointment she would use, miming how she would apply them, and smiling as she tried to make him understand it would help him feel better. He nodded, offering his arm. He seemed to understand well enough and she went to work on his arm, but spoke to Emma.

“The man I was working on, with the missing finger. When I work on him, it is going to hurt. I’ll need help holding him down. Can you get me someone to help? Once I’m done here, I’ll take care of a couple more and have you get them someplace else, then no one will have to watch him writhing about.”

Emma nodded, then headed off. Victoria, with Ginny’s help, got through all the men except the one with the missing finger, who was sleeping soundly in the corner. Most of the men had done little more than grimace as she cleaned, stitched, and wrapped their wounds. A couple muttered prayers in languages she did not understand, and one had hissed rather loudly when she put two of his fingers back in their proper sockets, though he had smiled when she put some sticks to them and began wrapping them as gently as she could. Medicine hurt, however there was no reason to be cruel about it.

When Emma returned, the shop was almost empty, as Ginny had lead the men over to the hotel. They might once have stayed in the Church before Bogue had burned it. Victoria was a bit surprised who Emma had brought back. She had expected a couple miners or maybe Teddy and the Reverend. Possibly Mr.Evans from down the street, if Chisolm didn’t have him busy at the hotel. She had not expected Emma to come back with Jack Horne and Vasquez. Jack removed his hat as they entered. Vasquez looked around, seeing all the dirty bandages in heaps where Ginny and Victoria had tossed them as they took them off to replace them with good medicine and clean bandages. Emma just stared at the injured man’s hand, wrapped in a red handkerchief that disguised any blood.

“Emma, can you get me the small blue container under the register and the white tube next to it?”

Emma nodded and Victoria walked up to Jack and Vasquez. She whispered to them, avoiding waking the injured miner just yet.

“Has Emma explained to you why I had her get help?”

Both men nodded. Jack spoke up first.

“She said there was a man badly injured, and that the treatment would hurt. She said you were probably going to need help holding the man still while you tended to him, as he doesn’t speak and the wound is bad.”

Victoria let out a long breath.

“He’s had a finger removed, crudely. I’m guessing it was smashed and someone tried to cut off whatever was left, for his own safety and comfort. However, it has taken an infection. A bad one. I’m not sure I can save his hand, though I will try. I have to get it clean, and that is not going to be pleasant. Then, I’ll need to put something in the wound to help keep it clear and bring down the swelling, which is also rather terrible. Then I’ll need to properly wrap the wound. I can’t close it with the swelling and when I’m not sure I’ve gotten all the infection cleared. Wrapping it will be the least unpleasant part. And even that will hurt, as I intend to apply a bit of pressure to help keep the wadded up bit in place.”

Jack nodded.

“I’ll hold his middle. Vasquez, you can hold his shoulders. Mrs.Cullen can hold his feet, even if she has to sit on his shins.”

“I’ve got a table in the back, I can put a strip over his thighs to help keep him from hurting his legs, or one of us, while I work.”

Jack looked at the poor soul they were about to work on, then back to Victoria.

“What are the odds that he’ll die, if he keeps the hand?”

“I think I can clear out the infection tonight, and in the morning judge about if he can safely keep the hand. Right now, the swelling and dirt are too bad to judge anything. I don’t think he would survive losing the hand, right now. The shock of it… I think it might kill him.”

Her reasoning was sound. He had seen men having limbs romoved by hacksaws-wielding surgeons. And he had seen how many of these men died during the procedure or shortly thereafter, as they could not take the terrible pain. Victoria leaned closer to Jack, her whisper quieter.

“If it comes to that, I will ensure he is very drunk and I will call for the Reverand and Mr.Hickem. Mr.Hicken assisted with such surgeries during the War, and he would know how to do one. I do not have the strength in my arms to do it quickly. Mr.Hickem would.”

Letting out a breath, Jack silently said another prayer. He hoped the man would not need to have his hand removed. He also hoped they would not need any more graves dug between now and Bogue’s return. Jack gestured for Vasquez to come with him, and they moved to help the miner stand, once Victoria woke him. He looked scared but not of Victoria. They lead him to the back room, where Emma was waiting with the jars she had been instructed to retrieve. Victoria gestured for the man to lay on the table in the back, with Vasquez and Jack helping him.

The man gestured enough for Jack to figure his meaning. He wanted to know if they were going to cut off his hand. Victoria shook her head, gesturing that they would scoop something from his hand, then that she would put the medicines Emma held, into the man’s hand. Then she mimed wrapping it with gauze. The man nodded and laid back, his injured hand across his chest. Jack admired the bravery. Men who could easily converse with their doctors, were often far less amenable. Victoria quickly wrapped a cloth around the man’s thighs and the table, ensuring he could not kick his legs much, then Jack moved to brace himself over the injured man’s middle, while Vasquez stood at the man’s head and held his hands flat over the man’s shoulders. Victoria moved between Jack’s right shoulder and Vasquez’s left, reaching for the injured man’s hand. He gave it over and she unwrapped the wound. Jack turned his head, not wishing to look upon it.

“Alright sir, now I’ll do what I can to help you. I promise to be as quick as I can.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the morning, Emma woke up early. Looking over at Victoria’s door, she saw there was still a small light coming from under it, despite the sun not yet being up. Granted, Victoria rarely woke before the sun had been up for a while, and as such as fixed her room to be on the side where the sunset rather than the sunrise, streamed through her windows. Matthew had been the opposite. He loved sunrise better than any other time of the day or night. Many mornings, he had woken Emma before the dawn and made love to her as the sun came up over the hills. It had been her favorite way to wake.

This morning, she planned to get in a bit of practice with her rifle. Matthew had done all the hunting and such, so her skills could have become rusty. She would rather figure that out now and correct it, than learn too late in the heat of the battle to come. She quickly dressed in an old brown skirt and clean shirt, taking Matthew’s gun belt, his pistol, and her rifle, she gathered rounds and a canteen, then headed out. There was an area off from town a bit, where a stand of trees stood over some water, and she could shoot there without worrying about hitting anyone or anything.

She left Victoria a small note, next to the pot of tea she made for her cousin, so Victoria would not worry when she woke to find Emma gone. He was a good cousin and she had done a fair job of looking after Emma without making Emma feel helpless as so many others had in their attempts to tend to the newly widowed rancher.

Emma had barely fired more than 8 shots when she was joined by Mr.Faraday. He did not smell of booze, for a change, and Emma wondered how he had gotten through the night without half a bottle of something. Teddy had commented about their encounter during the ride to Rose Creek. It confirmed to Emma that Mr.Faraday was indeed a drunk. Even Mr.Robicheaux referred to him as the ‘drunken Irishman’.

“Pretty.”, he commented.

Emma shot him a dirty look. She was used to fending off advances made right in front of her husband. Being a young woman with red hair, figure worth commenting on, and a face that attracted a good deal of male attention, it was normal for men to ogle and flirt. Matthew had always teased her that seeing other men staring made him remember how lucky he was that she picked him, however he had been just as grouchy about the men doing it as she was when it was happening. Having men flirt and ogle with her husband barely cold in his grave, was not something Emma was ready to deal with just yet. She still thought of herself as Married, rather than Widowed.

“I mean good.”, Faraday furthered, as she came closer.

“Your shooting is good. Do it again.”, he ordered as he looked to where she had been shooting at.

“Sight the lowest part of the V, cheek resting against the,”, Emma interrupted with chambering her next round and firing.

“I had a father, thank you.”, she offered quietly.

“I didn’t.”, Faraday countered before turning and quickly shooting his pistol at her target.

He emptied his cylinder into the branch she had been practicing on as Emma watched. There was a difference about him when he was committing violence, even to a dead tree branch. The façade of bravado and charm disappeared, leaving the angry, hollow look in his eyes that she had noticed upon their first meeting. Emma wondered, not for the first time, what had happened to Faraday to make him so lost and aimless in life. She wondered if he even wanted to survive the fight they were facing. He did not seem to have any real love of life or fear of death.

“Whoo! God dang it, I’m good.”, he commented when he finished shooting.

And just like that, the façade was back in place. He was once more a rogue with a bit too much charm and full of himself.

“Why are you doing this, Mr.Faraday? I mean, why are you here, fighting someone else’s fight?”

“I needed my horse back, and this was the price.”

Somehow, Emma did not believe this was the whole reason for his being there. He could have run off in the night, Mr.Chisolm would not have chased him. The man looked away from her again, his hand hovering over his gun, Maria.

“Six pounds of pressure. That’s all that’s required to kill a man.”, he said before firing off one single shot.

“And they say the nightmares never go away.”

Emma knew that for sure. She had seen Victoria enough times, late at night when those ghosts would not leave her be in the night.

“Those nightmares, they keep you up often, Mr.Faraday?”, she asked in genuine interest.

“You might want to wear some pants if you’re fixin’ to fight.”, he answered.

She took that as a ‘yes’. Probably the reason he drank so much, if she had to guess. It kept the nightmares quieter and allowed him some measure of peace in his slumber. The Reverend had spoken of the black embrace of a drunken night’s sleep, on one occasion when Emma could not understand why Mr.Hickem sometimes drank for two days straight, then slept another two, stayed away from town for a day, then would go weeks without issue. The Reverend said the War, with all the killing and dying, left marks on the souls of the survivors. The soldiers, the doctors, the nurses, the drummer boys, everyone. And he claimed the demon alcohol was often a temporary remedy against those marks, allowing the black embrace of a drunken night’s sleep. Emma had wondered at nightmares so bad that a night you could not remember, and a headache so bad it made you ill and miserable for the whole day after, was preferable. She supposed she would soon find out.


	6. Hands of Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole town preps for the big fight, digging trenches, painting whirlygigs, repairing the Church, and getting ready for the showdown. Vasquez has a very important conversation about Responsibility with a young boy who calls his father nothing better than a coward, compared to the Mag7. Victoria does some doctoring. Emma does some thinking and observing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers: If you don't like splinters, this may get uncomfortable. Mentions a woman dying in childbirth (see: Deleted Scenes from Mag7, the boy's conversation with Vasquez)
> 
> I had been trying to figure out a first name for Vasquez, when I was struck with inspiration that also offered a chance to reference the original movie. I've also had more than a few splinters myself, being someone who works with wood a lot, so I based Ms.Kenton's tricks on ones I've picked up from more experienced carpenters over the years.
> 
> This chapter features a small smattering of Spanish. If it is terrible, or I've gotten it way off, please let me know? The only reason I passed Spanish in school is because they weren't permitted to fail us in Second Language.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please enjoy.

The whole rest of the morning, Emma, Teddy, and some others spent putting together all the weapons in town, making sure they were clean and ready, with enough ammunition for each person to have a good chance at making an impact. The Seven walked about, laying out their plan for the attack. Victoria overheard bits of it, as she worked in her shop, on the miners who had come in for her to have a second look at their now-clean wounds. It seemed Mr.Robicheaux was not very happy to be placed in a high spot to shoot down anyone who came certain ways. He argued to Vasquez that such positions were terrible because you could never get back down.

Meanwhile, Jack and Sam seemed intent on figuring out how not only to funnel Bogue’s men to particular areas, but also where to the place the townsfolk and make the best use of them. It sounded as if they intended to use the old Church, as well, though Victoria was not sure how since she could not hear them once they moved up towards it. Once she had seen to the last of the miners, the man with the missing finger on his left hand, she went to join Emma to work on readying weapons for the fateful day.

The Seven came in right behind her, moving to their favorite table. Drinks were ordered from the girl who worked in the saloon/hotel, and Emma continued checking on the older weapons the Reverend and Mrs.Hornsbee had brought from their homes, that had not been used in several years. They weren’t even sure the guns shot straight or were capable of being fired safely.

“And what happens if he shoots you right in the head?”, Faraday asked as Sam continued laying out their plan of attack.

“Well then, shoot him right in the head. I don’t know, avenge me!”

Victoria and Emma shared a small smile across the room, then looked to see most of the men at the table were also smiling at Sam’s attempted humor.

“If we can lure him into the bottleneck, close the door behind him, each group fire and advance, we stand a chance.”, Sam figured.

Sitting back, he shoved the map of the town onto the center of the table.

“Worst-case scenario, all is lost and we blow the mine.”

Goodnight reminded them that the best vantage point was still the steeple of the Church. Vasquez and Jack nodded, each adding what could be done to repair it so that it ensured a solid structure for Goodnight and Billy to stand on. No one doubted Billy would be right up there with Goodnight when the battle came. Someone had to make sure no one got up under Goodnight.

“This is the stronghold, you funnel them all towards the Church.”

Emma stepped closer to the table, hand on her hip as she issued her question.

“Where am I?”

Sam turned to look at her, clearly sure he was going to get a fight.

“You keep the women and children safe, and out of harm’s way.”

“I am to fight.”, Emma told him as she shook her head.

Victoria looked over at Jack, seeing how his face fell a bit. It was no mystery how he felt about the idea of the women being needed to fight. Looking over, she saw most of the Seven were looking between Emma and Sam. Faraday, in particular, appeared impressed by her. And a bit concerned. The same could be said of Goodnight. Victoria let out a long breath.

“If it comes to that, then we’re all dead.”, Sam pronounced to the table.

They all exchanged looks before Vasquez said something in Spanish, smiling as he stood to get his hat. Whatever it was, it must have been amusing, as Sam and Goodnight both wore small smirks at hearing it. All the men rose to put on their hats, jackets, and such, though Sam seemed to be following Goodnight with his eyes.

“Goody?”

Goodnight looked over at their leader.

“You all right?”

Goodnight nodded as he straightened his coat. Sam returned the nod. Then everyone filed out onto the street, with a task in mind. First, they needed to run the lines for the explosives and make sure they had what they needed for the job. They would also need a way to keep track of the wind, then to dig some trenches and figure out where to hide a wave of men with guns, from the view of Bogue’s men as they rode in. The lines were quickly laid out, and soon the men of the town, miners, and even the Seven, began to work on digging the first trenches.

Victoria walked out, her large hat protecting her face and neck as she carried out a milkmaid’s yoke with a large tub of water on either side, and a couple ladles to drink with. She came up to let the men get drinks, as they did back breaking work under the sun’s fury. A girl walked behind her with another bucket of water and ladle, the two of them trying to ensure there was enough water for the men to get a good drink in the heat. Sam and Vasquez were the last to come to the water, both thanking her before downing a good amount.

“How goes the plan, Mr.Chisolm?”, she asked once he had gotten a drink.

“It goes well, Ms.Kenton. How goes the prep in town?”

“So far, so good.”

Vasquez nearly snorted into his water, earning him an odd look.

“How are those last couple miners you worked on? I heard one might lose his hand.”

Victoria smiled wide.

“I’m happy to report that Pavel is healing well, along with Willy and Ben, and no one will require the surgeons. I had feared Pavel would. Thankfully, he will only have to contend with the loss of function in one of his remaining fingers, and likely a very nasty scar.”

“Better than losing a hand. Or dyin’.”

Victoria could not disagree with Mr.Chisolm’s logic. She moved along, letting more men have at the water, in the field where Mr.Horne was leading the diggers and then off to where Emma was bringing out some of the wing-turners the children were painting red. It struck Victoria the odd juxtaposition of having school children singing hymns and nursery rhymes while painting tools that would help in a battle, these tools ensuring deaths.

Coming over to Emma’s side, she offered her cousin a drink. Emma thanked her and took up the ladle of water. She had recovered from her sunburn, thanks to Victoria’s salve she had ordered Emma to slather on at night. Otherwise, Emma would have looked like a half-molted snake with red hair, by now. Just as Emma finished drinking, Faraday, Goodnight, Billy, and Vasquez arrived with the line that needed running. Faraday came over and Victoria handed him the one ladle she was carrying for her buckets.

“You takin’ care of me, Ms.Kenton?”

She gave him an odd look, not entirely understanding his question. Emma looked ready to smack him.

“You did such a good job looking out for us up on that hill, and now here you are making sure I get a cool drink in this hot sun. You’re takin’ awful good care of me. Maybe you outta let me take care of you.”, he added with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Victoria decided to have done with this game of Faraday’s. She was sure that he was trying to either show off for the other six, or he was showing off in front of Emma. Even he seemed to have sense enough to know hitting on a woman who had been widowed less than a moon ago, was not to be done.

“Mr.Faraday, I’m aware you find yourself clever and charming. I, however, do not share your opinion on the matter. In the future, please confine your attempts at wooing to more receptive listeners.”, she stated before walking off with the water buckets, the small girl following with the third bucket.

Faraday turned to see the other three having a chuckle, then turned to see Emma giving him a rather irritated look. After their conversation earlier in the day, he was aware that she was far more observant than he cared for. He also did not care for the other three having a laugh at his expense.

“Gentlemen, I do believe we have just witnessed history in the making. The Irish have risen up and swatted down the American cowboy.”, Goodnight joked.

Billy added, “Maybe he will do better back in the saloon.”

Goodnight nodded, agreeing.

“Men always do better where the women are paid well for their pretending to find us charming sons of bitches.”

Vasquez walked up closer to Faraday, still carrying rolls of fuses. Smirking, he leaned to make his own joke.

“She kicked you off in a hurry, no?”

Faraday shrugged, a grumpy look wiped off in favor of a crap eating grin.

“That was round one. I’ll get her next time.”

Goodnight shook his head at the drunken gunman.

“Am I recollecting incorrectly, or has he not already made attempts to charm the unswayable Ms.Kenton?”

“Several.”, Billy answered, deadpan.

The sharp-shooter sighed as he turned to walk away.

“Seems he is a slow learner.”

**~*~*~*~*~**

Emma noticed as Sam sent Red Harvest off on his horse, the instructions given so quietly that none but Red and Sam, could hear. She found that she was almost enjoying working beside her neighbors and these seven men, to ready the town for battle. It was something that caused her some guilt when she had enough time to think. She wondered if this was how the men she had hired, felt. Did they feel remorse for all those they had killed, guilt over the thrill of preparing for a fight and then winning it? When Victoria came bed, the night after the raid on the mine, she had not slept a wink. She tried to hide it from Emma and did not allow the men they had hired, have any idea how killing those men had affected her. Emma wondered, after Bogue’s men had come, would she feel the same guilt over killing any of them? Or would it be relief? Victoria had told her that, after the first man she killed- back in Europe, she had felt relief at first. That it had taken weeks before the guilt and doubt had set in, wondering if there had been another way to escape his abuse, if God would forgive her for taking a life in defense of her own.

Moving her gaze, she found Vasquez and Faraday readying some fuses for the battle. In many ways, they reminded her of teenaged boys, still child-enough to tease and play, yet grown-enough to have a different feel to their teasing. The two seemed to be squabbling a bit with each other again, as Faraday threw his cigar at Vasquez. Sometimes, she felt Vasquez deserved some sort of award for staying calm in the face of Faraday’s behavior.

Despite how much he seemed to grate on her cousin’s nerves and also despite her better judgement, Emma found that Mr.Faraday’s manner amused her. With so much going on now, laughter was hard to come by. Mr.Faraday excelled at making people laugh, whether he meant to or not. For that, Emma was grateful. Rose Creek needed reasons to smile. Or laugh. For now, they readied for the reckoning that was coming and the vengeance they would have in place of justice that could not be found.

Meanwhile, Goodnight and Jack were making their own plots. Goodnight needed to know how long it would take for someone, stationed outside of town, to get to the center if they had a straight line without impediment. As such, he was having Jack ride in from his appointed spot in the fields beyond the town’s boundary, in to the town center.

“Three minutes.”, Goodnight pronounced as Jack rode in for the third time.

“That is too long. If any of us are out there, it will be all over before we can get in here to help. We need to either shorten the distance, or not have any of us out there. We need to make sure whoever of these gentle townsfolk are set to be out there, they have enough firepower and enough protection, that they do not need one of the seven of us with them.”

“We need to close off that side of town. Make’em come in from the other end. We can use the dynamite to thin their numbers.”

“Exactly. Come. We best give our fearless leader a report.”

Jack chuckled to himself as he climbed down from his horse, rubbing his hand affectionately in her mane. They passed the Church, where Vasquez was working with several of the townspeople to get the Church in good enough shape for Goodnight and Billy to be able to safely sit up high in order to fight. The idea was to give Goodnight the best spot in the town, allowing him to thin the numbers for the rest of them, as Bogue would likely bring an army of paid killers with him to face their seven experienced gunmen, a couple old soldiers, and a bunch of farmers. Any edge they could have was a needed one.

Jack looked into the Church and saw Vasquez helping place a large beam up onto sawhorses so that it could be worked on by several men. He then went to helping drill some holes, a young boy coming in with a few more tools to help with the carpentry work. It did Jack’s heart good to see that the Church was being made a priority, even for such a reason.

**~*~*~*~*~**

Vasquez watched the young boy who had come to help them. The boy worked honestly and with the lack of skill one would expect from a child. He figured the child was about 10, perhaps 11, with hands that suggested his father expected him to make the most of his education rather than toiling for a living. That was well, he figured, as the boy would be less likely to face the challenges like what was happening to Rose Creek, or the challenges akin to what the seven hired guns faced. He would be a man with a desk, a nice suit, and a roof over his head all the days he worked.

Sucking his teeth, he made to get the boy’s attention as he walked over. Vasquez did not wish to see this child accidently take off a finger or implant the drawknife into his 11 year old chest. Wood working tools were sharp, dangerous things in the hands of those unaccustomed to handling them. Vasquez reached, and the child stepped aside to allow Vasquez to slip into his place and take hold of the tool.

Gently, Vasquez began to peel back a sliver of the bark from the wood. Moving his arms just a little at a time, he began to remove the strip, revealing both the lighter meat of the wood as well as the proper technique for removing the bark. It was not hard, only time-consuming.

“See? Let the tool do the work. Huh?”, he said as he continued to demonstrate it for the child.

“Try?”, he offered as he handed the tool back, careful to make sure there was a handle in easy reach for the child.

The boy took the tool and resumed his former position at the end of the tree trunk. Mimicking Vasquez’s demonstration, the boy easily peeled back a sliver of the bark, just as he had been shown. He looked up, seeking approval with a tentative smile. Vasquez smiled back at him, giving a nod. It was important that children know they were doing a good job.

Returning to his drill, Vasquez set to working. The child continued to shave the bark from the tree, his ease increasing noticeably along with his speed in clearing the bark from the tree. As they worked, something occurred to Vasquez. He had seen the boy around town with a man in a brown suit, yet he had never seen him with any women. Not even with Ginny and Mrs.Cullen, when they were carrying water or helping prepare food.

“Where’s your mother?”, he asked. “I haven’t seen you with her.”

“She died havin’ me.”, the boy replied.

Vasquez paused. It was not right for a child to grow without a mother’s love and tending. Even he, an outlaw gunman, had always enjoyed his mother’s tender care over wounds and nightmares, as well as her hand to his arse when he had need of correcting. The boy continued, seemingly unaware of the ramblings in Vasquez’s head.

“It’s just me and my father now.”

“He runs the school, yes?”

“He ain’t good at much else?”, the boy said with enough distain to stop Vasquez in his tracks.

“Why you say it like that?”

“Cause he ain’t. Heard him with Mr.Stoner. Said he was afraid.”, the boy almost sneered as he worked.

Vasquez started to speak, then stopped. Abandoning the drill for the moment, he moved to do something more important.

“Come here. Come here.”, he urged the boy as he took hold of him by the ear and moved him to the side.

“Sit down!”, he ordered as he gestured to the wagon.

The boy looked rightly frightened at Vasquez, so he made himself take a deep breath. The people here did not appear to be strict with other people’s children. Back home, no one would have thought a thing of disciplining someone else’s child, if there had been a need and the parent was not at hand to do it themselves.

“You think I’m brave because I carry a gun?”

“But I can fight!”

“Shh! Your father is braver.”, Vasquez pronounced as he looked the boy directly in the eyes.

“He carries something bigger than a gun. It’s called _Responsibility_ , and he carries it for you, alone. All by himself. And this responsibility is like a big rock that weighs a ton. It can kill a man if he’s not strong enough to carry it.”

He paused a moment, to let his words sink in. The child needed to understand, before he threw away his father or the life his father was attempting to build for him. Vasquez muttered to himself in his mother tongue as he stood, looking out at the field where many of the men would be waiting to fight in a couple days.

“I don’t have the guts to be responsible for anyone but me. That’s why I’ve never had anything. That’s…”, he started, then stopped.

“Just go.”, he ordered as he looked away.

The boy did not move.

“Go.”

Vasquez did not look at the boy leaving, he continued to stare out at the field, lost in his thoughts. He had been his mother’s last son. Her eldest taken by illness, her middle a respectable banker in Dallas, her elder daughter a married woman who provided four granddaughters, her youngest killed by a Ranger who did not believe he should be denied the body of any woman he wanted, and her youngest an outlaw who had never settled down, owned anything but his horse and clothes, or provided any grandchildren to his mother.

Vasquez shook his head to dispel the thoughts before turning back to his work. For over an hour, he and the other men continued to work on the rebuilding efforts for the Church. They finished the two beams they would be replacing in the Church, that did the work of holding up the weight of the bell in the tower, where Goodnight and Billy would be stationed for the final battle. Jack, Vasquez, Sam, and Teddy were all there to help. Teddy and Jack moved to help with the first beam’s placement, while Sam and Vasquez moved to help put the second into its spot. Just as they got the first one into place, it slid. Vasquez and two other men leapt forward, helping to keep it braced. Jack and another larger man both moved, putting their shoulders to the beam and shoving it into the slot.

When Vasquez raised his hand to the second beam, he noticed a large chunk of wood stuck between two of his fingers. Then he felt it. Sam whistled as he looked at it. Vasquez pulled the large chunk out to find more, smaller fragments remained. Even Jack was making a face at it now.

“You should get that looked at.”, Jack said.

“I agree. Pretty deep.”, Sam nodded.

Jack tugged Vasquez’s hand closer, looking through squinted eyes.

“Might take that up to Ms.Kenton. I’m sure she would have some tweezers or such to pull those pieces out.”

Sam chuckled.

“Hate for you to get an infection right before a gun fight.”

While he did not think it rose to that level of seriousness, he would not disagree that it would be good to have the pieces removed. And tweezers would do a better job than his blunt fingers. First, however, they had a beam that needed worked on.

“Let’s get this finished.”

They all moved into position, working to get the second beam placed. Then, Sam ordered Vasquez off to get his hand taken care of, while Sam and Jack decided what they needed to do next for Goodnight and Billy to have the safest perch. It would do them no good to have their sharp shooter or his protector, falling through the floor only a couple minutes into the fight.

**~*~*~*~*~**

Vasquez walked up the street to where Ms.Kenton’s medicine shop sat almost at the opposite end of town. He paused for a moment, debating if he ought to go in and bother her. It seemed she had not had a break since they arrived, between doctoring and prepping, not to mention when she had helped them at the mine. She had fooled most people on the ride back, joking with Faraday and Goody, but Vasquez had seen the shadows in her eyes. Killing was no easier for her than it was for Jack, Sam, or any of them.

He decided, if nothing else, he could see her and make sure that she was alright. He would not wish her to suffer in some way, because no one had bothered to make sure the healer in town was well. Gently knocking first, he walked in the open door of her shop. It appeared empty. Ms.Kenton was not in the main room nor were any other customers. Vasquez was about to turn and leave when he heard footsteps. He looked up to find Ms.Kenton walking in, a pale apron over her long gaucho pants, a faded red shirt with the sleeves rolled past her elbows and not unbuttoned as far as Mrs.Cullen often left hers. What really caught his attention, however, was her hair. It was loose except for a few strands tucked into a clip at the nape of her neck. Just enough to keep it out of her face. She was also flushed.

“Mr.Vasquez!”, she said with a smile.

“What can I do you for?”

He stepped forward, holding up his injured hand.

“The men at the Church said I should come to you. I had a large splinter and some pieces are still stuck in there.”

She made a face of sympathetic pain as she stepped forward. It was not until she took hold of his hand that Vasquez realized it was bleeding a bit. She wiped at it with the pad of her thumb, so gentle he almost felt as if he imagined it.

“Come, sit up on the stool. I’ll be right back.”

She took off into the back room while he did as instructed, sitting on one of her stools near the counter of her shop. Having a moment to himself, he looked around. It was tidy and well kept. Everything had a place and each thing was in its place. She had placed enough lights about to keep the place well lit at night, if she had a need, with a good number of windows out front to allow a lot of sunlight to stream in throughout the afternoon. Her countertop was spotless. The whole shot almost seemed to gleam in the late afternoon sun.

He heard a noise, drawing his attention back to the rear of the shop in time to see Ms.Kenton coming out with a wet cloth in one hand and a little kit in the other. It was then that he noticed she wore neither shoes or stockings. Her feet bare as she moved about her shop. It was a wonder she did not have her own splinters.

“You wear no shoes in your shop, Senorita?”

She looked down, almost as though she had forgotten the state of her feet.

“I’ve always hated shoes. I ran about barefooted all the time as a child. I wore them only when we went out, or were at someone else’s home. Emma and I used to go to a lake and stick our feet in the water as we talked. Our fathers were scandalized.”, she grinned as she walked over.

She used the corner of her wet cloth to wipe away the blood and dirt from between Vasquez’s fingers, her brows drawn as she looked.

“Ah, it looks like you’ve got a few little pieces in there. It was hard to tell before with the dirt and all.”

Vasquez pulled his dirty, bloody hand back, realizing how filthy they must have seemed to her. Especially with her lily-white, unblemished, clean hands to compare to. Her dark green eyes moved back to meet his gaze, a look of confusion on her face.

“I’m not finished, Mr.Vasquez. I need to get those out or you could get an infection.”

“I’m sorry. I can go clean my hands first.”

She seemed to realize something as her expression shifted and her tone became more firm.

“Mr.Vasquez, I do not fear a little dirt or any amount of blood. You got that dirt working to repair the most important building in my town. Please do not apologize for honest dirt. Now, may I please have your hand?”

He slowly handed back his limb for her examine and clean. She then put a clean section of the cloth between his fingers, squeezing the cloth a bit to make the water come forth and onto his skin.

“When the water soaks in a bit, it will be easier to pull the splinters out.”

“Where did you learn that?”

She smiled softly.

“My mom. It was a favorite trick whenever my uncle or I got splinters. I used to help him in his workshop. He made beautiful furniture for large houses.”

It was the first time he had heard her talk of her life before she came out west, except for her telling a story about she and her cousin. He had begun to wonder if she had any relations but her cousin, her uncle, and her grandfather. For a moment, she continued to hold the cloth to his hand, neither speaking. He felt it a bit stifling.

“Bernardo.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“Pardon?”

“My name. Bernardo.”

The smile she gave him would have knocked him down if he were not seated with her holding onto him.

“Victoria Rose MacClafferty Kenton.”

He let out a whistle, his eyes wide.

“I know. It’s a mouthful. Emma had it better, Emma Evangeline Cullen. Was Emma Hubert.”

For a moment, he considered her name. He played with how it probably sounded rolling off the tongue. He particularly liked her first middle name.

“Victoria Rose. It suits you.”

Her smile returned.

“Bernardo suits you, as well, Mr.Vasquez. Now, lets see to this hand.”

Ms.Kenton removed the cloth, then ducked her head to inspect the wound more closely. Her tweezers were cool as they touched his skin, with her making quick work of removing the splinters. It was not as if he did not feel her dig for them, so much as it did not hurt the way he expected it to.

“Your hands, they do not look like a gunfighter’s hands.”

“Wasn’t all I ever did. I was a horseman’s son. I used to help him train them. He did not break them like the white men did on their ranches, he gentled them to his will. Taught me all he knew.”

The look on her face was one somewhere between sorrow and joy, bittersweet he thought. Then she finished her tending with a bit of something grey with specks of something white and something else brown, gently rubbing it around the area where the splinters had been.

“What do I owe you?”

Ms.Kenton waved him off.

“I will not accept payment from any of you while you are here, risking your necks and breaking your backs, for the sake of my home and my neighbors. We’re already paying you all so little. The least we can do is offer food, beds, and medicine without charging you.”

“Thank you, Senorita.”

She nodded, her smile still in place.

“You’re most welcome, Senor.”

He grinned.

“You know Spanish, or just the word?”

That earned a chuckle.

“I am abominable with languages, Mr.Vasquez. I’ve tried my hand at several, none of them have worked out for me.”

“Gracias, Senorita. Buenas noches.”

She just smiled, clearly not understanding enough of what he said to reciprocate properly.


	7. Meals Shared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shared meal in the Imperial among the whole seven, Teddy, Emma, and Victoria, and a breakfast shared between Jack and Joshua. Basically - this is the scene where we meet Ethel & Maria, and the deleted scene with Mr.Horne and Faraday having catfish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've seen the deleted scenes and/or the movie, you're fine trigger-wise (I think). Shorter chapter, but a more positive one.  
> We've got a little Goody & Billy, plenty of Jack Horne, and a little time with Emma.

That evening, the seven gathered at their usual table for dinner at the Imperial. They had done back-breaking work all day and it was finally time to unwind over good food and better drinks, in Faraday’s opinion. Emma and another dark-haired woman, who Faraday had yet to make the acquaintance of, had brought out their supper and a couple bottles for the men to serve themselves from. Faraday was fairly certain that Emma disapproved of their liberal consumption of the devil’s elixir. However, he was fond of the thing, so he would imbibe all he liked.

“We will soon come to face Blackstone and Bogue, gentlemen,”, Goodnight began, “and lead our little army to fight Goliath and his forces.”

Jack let out a breath.

“I give us fair odds. These people are good people, defending their homes. For that, they are mighty. And they have us.”

“For whatever we’re worth.”, Goodnight added somewhat bleakly.

Faraday uncorked a bottle and began pouring drinks.

“Enough thinking, let’s get to drinking.”

Vasquez nodded with a smile, downing his first drink in a single go. Billy sipped at his between bites, while Goodnight half-leaned on him. Faraday did not know quite how to read them, though he had seen Billy’s skill first-hand and had no desire to upset the man with questions apt to send a pig-sticker in Faraday’s direction. A stray came over to Sam’s side, and Sam fed a bit of his meat to the creature. Faraday had noticed that Vasquez and Sam both seemed to have a fondness for the dogs around town.

For a while, they continued to drink and joke, a few stories being shared here and there. Goodnight, in particular, told some amazing stories about places he had been to before the war. Especially of his time in Europe when he had been sent abroad to get his education, and had a habit of getting onto trains, boats, and carriages with strangers to attend events he knew nothing about, then ending up the center of attention at the events. Victoria entered as Goodnight was finishing a story about a drunken friend of his being completely confounded by a load of eggs being hidden in his bed when he awoke with a massive headache and no recollection of the night before.

Victoria just shook her head before heading back into the kitchen to get a plate of food and something to drink. Emma handed her some of the wild turkey that Teddy had bagged earlier, along with some beans and a mug of coffee. She could hear loud laughter coming from the dining room as she made to balance her drink, plate, and silverware. Victoria thanked her cousin and then headed back into the dining room, where Faraday stood at the seven’s table, loudly regaling his comrades with a joke Victoria did not recognize or follow.

“Where’d them eggs come from? A chicken’s ass, you dummy!”

The whole group were howling with laughter, and Victoria smiled. Everyone seemed to be smiling in the dining room and this group who individually had seemed so fractured and sad when they arrived, now gathered and laughed. It was a good feeling she had as she sat at a small table near where the gunmen gathered for their supper.

“Did I introduce you to my wife?”, Faraday asked the table.

Victoria turned to look, unsure where he was going till she noticed what he was holding. His main gun that he used, pulled from his hip. Victoria also noticed that Mr.Horne had gone rather serious and still, all traces of humor erased.

“Her name is Ethel, and I love her.”, Faraday said as he held the gun up for all to see.

His drunken behavior made Victoria a bit nervous, reminding her of another man, in another country, who had drunkenly brandished a weapon.

“Hello, Ethel. Charmed.”, Goodnight joked as he checked around them.

Billy leaned back over his food, Goodnight’s elbow resting atop Billy’s shoulder. They were always connected, Victoria noticed. From what she had seen, it was good they had found each other as Billy seemed to need someone to keep him straight while Goodnight needed someone to keep him in the present. She swore Billy was like a typical wife, making sure there was food, that supplies were laid in, that Goodnight ate and had a full plate of food even going so far as to place food on Goodnight’s plate for him, while Goodnight was the showy, talkative one, like so many husbands she had met who had been married a long while. And, Victoria noted, it seemed they both were unnerved by Faraday at the moment.

“And I consider her to be the love of my life.”

Vasquez laughed, nearly spitting out the last bite of his food. Faraday continued.

“And she is a no-bullshitter, she’s a straight shooter.”, he said as he held her out as if to aim at something across the room.

Jack Horne interrupted, in a very fatherly tone, “All right. Calm down, now. Put the gun away, son. Put it away.”

“Her name is Ethel.”, Faraday came back even as he put the gun back in the holster.

Victoria let out a breath.

“And you’ll show her some goddamn respect.”, Faraday drunkenly continued.

“Yeah.”, Horne quietly nodded as everyone seemed to relax a little.

Quickly, Faraday pulled his second gun from the front holster, holding it at an angle to show it off rather to aim it.

“It’s Maria you can disrespect.”

Most of them laughed, except for Horne.

“Don’t tell Ethel about Maria.”, Faraday stage-whispered as he shoved the gun back into the holster.

Vasquez raised up a bit in his seat, looking over at Faraday.

“Wait, wait, wait. My Maria, carbon? Hmm?”

Faraday seemed to grow somewhat still for a second.

“You have a Maria?”, he asked, sounding almost nervous.

For a beat, the group seemed stuck staring between the two, waiting to see what would happen next. It was no secret the men bickered constantly and now, tired with a few drinks in their blood, there was no predicting them. Until Vasquez smiled and held up his hand with three finger extended.

“I have three Marias!”, he exclaimed.

The two men began laughing quite loudly, though Vasquez was once more tucking into his food with his fingers while Faraday remained standing, still a bit unsteady due to his drinks. Goodnight looked around the room for a moment, before leaning closely to whisper in Billy’s ear. Victoria could not hear what passed between them. Goodnight seemed quite upset, almost as if he expected someone to come running in at any moment, from any direction, and shoot him. Billy quietly put together a fresh cigarette, the smell of it giving Victoria a hint that it was not the same kind Faraday or Mr.Halls enjoyed.

Billy handed the cigarette to Goodnight, quietly calming the older cowboy. Victoria was sure the contents of these cigarettes had something to do with keeping Goodnight calmed and allowing him to sleep, yet she had seen those same contents cause a person to have their senses abandon them. It seemed Billy walked the line well to help Goodnight without poisoning his mind.

“That’s not right. It’s not right to be talking about guns as if they were women.”, Horne chided the two younger men.

“You talk about your relationships with your guns like they were the same thing. It’s not the same thing.”, he continued.

“Yeah, it is.”, Faraday countered.

“No.”, Horne continued, undeterred.

“Woman’s a woman, a gun’s a gun, in the Lord’s eye. You talk about guns, you talk about women, you talk about them separately. It ain’t right.”

“Sure, it is.”, Vasquez said through a full mouth, “Sure it is, my friend.”

“I had a wife, once.”

Horne’s statement sent the table to a quiet stillness.

“Had a family. Had some children, too.”, he said as if it took nearly all his strength to say it, leaving him a bit deflated.

Vasquez, in particular, appeared struck by the confession. His hands stilled and his face shifted to something softer and less guarded, the usual charm and good humor gone. Victoria wondered if he was thinking of his own family, including the father who taught him to gentle horses to his will rather than breaking them as the white ranchers did with their horses.

“One time.”, Horne finished as he looked over to see Ginny, carrying the large coat they all knew to be Jack’s.

Ginny dropped the heavy coat over the back of an empty chair between Faraday and Horne, his gaze direct and focused on Horne. He seemed a bit less sure of his gaze, darting a bit rather than looking straight at her.

“Not the stitching will outlast you, I imagine.”

The whole team looked back and forth between the two, like school children watching a teacher and a woman the kids would tease him of later.

“That’s… that’s very nice of you.”, said Horne.

Reaching over, Horne inspected the fine hand-work on his old jacket. It was clear that Ginny had the skill that could have made her rich if she lived in a city or a much larger town.

“I didn’t ask you to ask.”, Ginny told him, a slight smirk on her lips.

Victoria looked to see Faraday barely holding back a smirk of his own while Vasquez looked like he was ready to get up and do a jig, though it did not stop him from continuing to devour his food. Ginny left, looking a little shy and embarrassed as Horne held the jacket in his hands and blindly pointed towards Vasquez.

“You quit starin’!”, came the strict, fatherly tone.

“I didn’t ask her to do that.”, he quietly added.

Gesturing along with his words, Vasquez left no room for misunderstanding his meaning.

“Well, the lady just did some poking and sticking for you. Maybe you should consider returning the favor, you know?”

Faraday and Goodnight both laughed while Billy looked ready to send them all upstairs, even if he was slightly amused. Horne, however, was not amused in the least.

“Okay. All right.”, he muttered as he took the half-finished bottle from the middle of the table and began to drink straight from it.

Victoria shook her head at their antics and continued with her meal for several minutes, even as Emma came to join her.

“Why don’t you two come over here, instead of eatin’ alone, over in that corner?”, Goodnight asked.

Emma looked up, seemingly confused. Goodnight offered a tired smile.

“I promise, we won’t bite.”

Victoria picked up both of their plates and headed over. It was time someone other than Teddy, tried to get this town to start treating the group of gunmen, as if they had some sort of plague. Emma followed with their coffee and silverware. Jack moved his things off the chair next to him and Vasquez grabbed an empty chair from the next table to put between himself and Billy, who scooted a bit closer to Goodnight to ensure there was room. Emma moved to sit by Billy and Vasquez, ensuring there was a body between she and Faraday. Victoria took the offered seat by Jack, thanking him.

“It’s nice to have ladies to share a meal.”, Mr.Horne said in return.

“Why do the two of you always eat alone, in the corner?”, Goodnight questioned.

Victoria and Emma shared a look, before Emma answered.

“We rarely ate here before. I used to fix dinner for the three of us at the house, sometimes Teddy or the Reverend would join. Most who eat here have done so almost every night since it was built.”

No one commented any further on the matter. For a moment, everyone ate in silence. Victoria found it suffocating.

“Anyone interested in a card game after dinner? Low-stakes, of course.”

“Money stakes?”, Faraday asked with a gleam.

“Well, I did just skin a couple rabbits and have the two pelts to offer as a stake, I also have a couple small bottles of spirits.”

“Well, count me in then!”, Faraday grinned as he finally sat back down in his seat.

“I’ve got some do-dads we picked up in Billy’s last fight. We could bring those for our stakes.”

“It sounds like we have a game then.”, Victoria smiled.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning seemed to start especially early Vasquez and Faraday, as Sam woke them both to help with a few more repairs in the Church steeple for their sharp-shooter. They helped Sam to make sure that everything was placed right, with Vasquez playing the part of Goodnight having to scurry up to his vantage point and look down the barrel of his borrowed rifle, Faraday playing the part of the incoming Blackstone agent coming down on horseback to be shot by Goodnight, and Sam checking the time to see how long it would take for Goodnight to get placed and fire. Sam pronounced it was ‘good enough for now’, and sent them on their way.

Vasquez decided he wanted to finish up some work from the day before in the barn, to ensure there were places enough to hide in if need be, while Faraday decided he would go fishing. The pond Emma had been firing across had been filled with tiny fish, but the lake nearer to where Jack had set up his tent, had some of the biggest fish he had seen in an age. Joshua quickly picked up what he needed and then headed over. Those catfish weren’t going to catch themselves.

It did not take long for him to make up a decent meal for him to share with their resident bear. Faraday carried the catch over to where Horne slept outside the little tent, seemingly dead to the world. Faraday wondered if he had ever, in all his life, slept that well.

“Horne! Horne! Horne!”, he stage-whispered to wake the man.

When it did not work, Faraday moved to gently kick his boot against the bottom of Jack’s shoe to rouse him. And roused he was, waking to shove his hat away, rise up, and aim a pistol at Faraday’s chest in one motion. This was why one did not wake bears.

“WHAT THE HELL!”

“Catfish.”, Faraday said as he held the bounty up.

“Oh yeah. That looks like breakfast.”, Horne said as he uncocked the hammer and put the gun down.

Faraday chuckled as he moved over to join Jack.

“Yes, sir.”

“I didn’t know whether to shoot ya or shit myself.”, Horne joked, earning a laugh from Faraday.

Together, they cleaned up the fish and readied the fire for cooking. It did not take all that long before they had their freshly cooked, nicely seasoned, and just before it was time to eat it, Jack pulled a pouch of gun powder, emptying a bit into the palm of his hand.

“Look out, back away son.”, he teased before throwing the powder into the fire, causing a crackling sizzle of their meat.

“There you go. Oh, this is gonna be nice.”, he said over his shoulder to Joshua.

Reclined, Joshua sat back to watch as Jack finished up the dinner. It was quite different, seeing him smiling and enjoying himself, no scripture or such. All the sunshine and open air, it seemed just about perfect. Just needed a bottle and a place for his horse.

“Boy, you got it figured out, out here. I might just move out here with ya.”

He figured, if nothing else, at least the bedroll would fit his height instead cramming himself into the narrow, short bed back at the hotel.

“Well, I could use the conversation.”, Jack answered as he began getting the food cut to serve.

“Haven’t had company in a while.”

“The great Jack Horne.”, Faraday commented.

“Hmm.”

“All those books I read about you,” Faraday started.

Jack turned, looking over his shoulder at Faraday. The last time Faraday started talking about the great reputation of another member of their troupe, he ended up insulting the man badly enough that Goodnight spent the whole afternoon getting drunk with a saloon girl and playing the piano for her till she passed out.

“never said anything about a family.”, he concluded with a clear question.

Jack didn’t really wish to speak of it. He loved his wife and their children, more than he had words to express. Losing them had all but killed him.

“Well, I lost my family.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Truly, Jack believed Joshua meant that. Faraday was a good liar with an excellent poker face, yet his face spoke nothing but honesty at the moment.

“It meant a lot to me. And I hold ‘em with me. You? Children, wife?”

Joshua shook his head, looking back to their meal.

“I had a mother.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I didn’t fall from a horse’s ass.”, Joshua kidded.

Jack laughed a bit, smiling into the cook pot as he worked to get the fish.

“Might have a couple’a kids.”, Faraday joked with a laugh Jack did not share.

“Yeah. You were funny up to that point.”

Letting out a slow breath, Jack decided to give his companion a second chance.

“You a religious man?”

“God, hell no.”

“I feel like saying a prayer.”, Jack said as he looked out over the water and the mine they had helped liberate.

“Why?”, Joshua asked, sounding more like a kid than Jack could recall ever hearing before.

“Well, I’m feeling thankful!”, he said as he sat up a little, and looked over at his friend.

“You can just thank me, I’m the one who caught the fish.”, Joshua pleaded before Jack grabbed him up.

Pulling Joshua into position, he readied the younger man to pray. This also included getting Joshua’s hat off.

“Sit up, take your hat off.”

“You brought the salt and pepper.”, Joshua groused as a reason God didn’t need to be thanked.

“Oh boy.”, Joshua groused as Jack began.

“Heavenly Father, this prayer is for Your holy Son. And we give thanks and gratitude for Him giving His life, for us. Amen.”

Joshua immediately shoved his hat back onto his head. Jack gave the man a big pat on the back, grateful to have had the company and for Joshua to have acquiesced so quickly. Joshua didn’t stay long to receive it, and instead bolted upright to stand on the other side of the cookfire.

“Prayin’ make you feel better? After you kill all those Indians, you pray?”, he asked as he tossed a broken branch into the fire, his nervous energy obvious to Jack.

“Prayer is a powerful thing, son.”

“I supposed when we save this town, everybody’s gonna thank God and not us.”, Joshua grouched.

“Cause he sent us.”, Jack explained as he returned his attention back to breakfast.

“He sent you, I came cause I owed a man a horse.”

Jack looked up at Joshua. His friend was so misguided. If they survived, just maybe he could help Joshua find his way.

“Yeah. That’s your story.”

Joshua just smiled.

“Sit back down and take off your hat. Breakfast is ready.”


	8. Faith and Prayers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Seven help put the bell back in the steeple, a final night of revelry is had, and a few serious conversations are done before Goodnight leaves on the eve of battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers: Okay, if you've seen the movie you should be alright. I will mention how Vasquez came to be on the run (referring back to his alluding to the Ranger having killed his brother-in-law and attempted to rape his sister), I will hint at some of the reasons why Victoria shot someone for the first time (he was drunk and trying to force himself on her at a party when she was in Europe), and there will be a discussion or two about faith and the loss of it. Also, mentions of people losing family to fever (I'm not going into detail on that cause with Corona- none of us want to hear about that)
> 
> Notes: This mostly follows a couple scenes in the movie beat for beat, with some additions. I also know the scene where Sam and the Preacher talk on the balcony technically comes right after the jokes about Maria/Ethel with Faraday & co. but for the purposes of working the deleted scene of Faraday & Jack into my story, I slid that between the two scenes. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Chisolm headed upstairs to the second-floor balcony, as the others finished their meal. He needed some time alone. Time to think. Some perspective.

The townsfolk all moved about, taking care of this and that. One older man sat in his wheeled chair, a younger man helping to feed him as a woman stood by the side, offering encouragement. Two younger women laughed at something, an older gentleman appeared to be walking with them, smiling a bit at their jokes. Then, Sam looked up at the burned-out church. The bell tower would have made an excellent position for Goodnight.

Sam’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the balcony door opening. Turning, he found the Preacher stepping out to join him, the man’s arm still in a makeshift sling, with his jacket left elsewhere.

“Evenin’, Mr.Chisolm.”

“Preacher.”, he nodded back.

The man walked over to Chisolm’s left, his eyes cast down over the town. Some children were now playing in the safety of a well-lit street. Chisolm smiled a bit. It was good to see children still able to just be children, even with all that was going on. Reminded him of better days, before the War.

“Ah, what a beautiful night it is.”, the Preacher commented with his brogue.

“Yes, it is.”

Sam turned to watch the Preacher as the man spoke.

“I just wanted to take a moment to come up here to… to thank you for everything you’ve done for us.”, said the Preacher as he looked back up at Chisolm.

Looking back to the street, the Preacher continued. “It’s been a long while since we’ve been able to enjoy an evening quite like tonight. Before you and your men arrived, all of our everyday pleasures had been taken from us. To have those back, even if only for a moment… Well, it might not mean that much to you, but by God we are all eternally grateful to you.”

“More than you know, Preacher.”, Chisolm said as he looked down at the dirt of the road.

A couple of men below joked and laughed over how they would spend their night off, after working all day. It reminded Chisolm of pre-battle talk from less-experienced soldiers who had been in a small scuffle or two, and had yet to see the real battles. The smoke, blood, chaos, confusion, and death of it.

“You know, some of these folks ain’t gonna make it.”

“Yeah.”, the Preacher said sadly, his own eyes taking in the peaceful scene.

Chisolm regarded the man for a moment. The Preacher had been one of the first to take up with Emma and support bringing in the seven of them to fight Bogue. He had also helped, where he could with his injured arm, to erect defenses about Rose Creek. He was what Chisolm thought a good Preacher ought to be. Quiet, unobtrusive, attentive to the needs of his flock- even if those needs weren’t spiritual in nature, and strong of heart.

For a long while, the two men just stood, watching as the townfolk went about their business. After a while, Chisolm heard the other six come out from their meal to sit on the porch for a spell. Without looking, he could tell what they were doing. Jack would be whittling on some piece of wood he had picked up, turning it into a whistle or a tool. Faraday would have a bottle of something, possibly sharing it with Goodnight. Goodnight would be reclined back in some chair, right against Billy, with a cigarette between two fingers as he laughed over some joke Faraday told. Red would sit quietly to one side, ever watchful. Vasquez would have a mug of coffee in hand as he leaned against one of the posts, ankles crossed, watching the townfolk.

Chisolm could get accustomed to this. Having dinner with his fellows, taking a bit of time to himself on the balcony. Having a regular place to be found at, the same bed he slept in night after night, familiar neighbors to greet while walking to the store, the welcome feeling of being greeted by the same faces at the same places, day after day.

A small commotion drew Chisolm’s attention to where Victoria was coming down the street. She was heading for the porch where the others were relaxing for the evening, a box big enough to hold a single bottle of whiskey, in her hands. As she came up to the porch, Chisolm heard Faraday let out a hoop of a greeting.

“I had ordered some chocolate for a special occasion and… well, tonight feels like a special occasion. Care to share?”

Chisolm smiled as he heard the bootsteps and scuffling to get over to the offered chocolate. He could imagine that none of his men had frequent opportunities for such a treat. Once upon a time, back before he had returned to America with his education, Goodnight probably could have had it daily. Vasquez may have enjoyed it, before he became an outlaw. Otherwise, it was not so frequently found this far west.

A moment later, just as Chisolm was about to ask the Preacher about the porch where four men were assembling with instruments, two children came over to Victoria. Chisolm could hear them begging her to come join their papas and uncles. Victoria laughed, the sound easily drifting up to Chisolm and the Preacher, as the children dragged her over to the men tuning their instruments. There was a fiddle, a guitar, violin, and a dulcimer.

The men began a tune, the melody upbeat and pretty. Victoria began to sing, her voice full and confident, a contralto if Chisolm’s ears could still be trusted. She swayed a bit to the rhythm of the music while the townfolk moved to form a semi-circle around the performers. It did not take long before a few of the men had pulled some ladies out into the center space, dancing to the lively tune.

“When she came with Emma and Matthew, I had wondered about her. Older, unmarried, educated enough to make me feel like a fool, and too stubborn for any man to have her.”, the Preacher uttered.

Chisolm tilted his head to look, finding that Vasquez had moved off the porch and to a neighboring one, allowing him a much better view of Victoria over the heads of the crowd. Chisolm smiled.

“I don’t know about that.”, he added quietly, in reference to the Preacher’s last comment.

The Preacher continued, seemingly unaware of Vasquez and unaware that even Faraday seemed to have shown a slight interest. Chisolm had his suspicions that Faraday just liked making Victoria angry and perhaps was attempting to get a rise out of Emma as well.

“She set up her medicine shop, always with a cure for this and that, always kind to the children but showing no interest in the men of town. Didn’t attend Church, doesn’t appear to have much interest in anything a lady ought to be well-versed in, ecept for her good manners. Emma had always been a bit blunt and honest to a fault, though she is almost a shrinking violet by comparison to her cousin.”

Chisolm looked around, spotting Emma further away from the crowd. She was sitting with the woman who had done some sewing for Jack, and who had helped with the injured miners. They appeared to be enjoying their own cups of coffee as they watched the dancers and listened to the music. Chisolm smiled. He could truly get used to living a life like this, in a town like Rose Creek. However, after the fighting, the blood, and the dying, he doubted he and the others would be as welcome as they were now. Though, some small part of him, still hoped that at least a couple of them might find refuge here in the aftermath.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The next morning saw them fixing the last, vital piece of the Church. Returning the bell to the tower. Vasquez, Chisolm, and the Preacher stood below with Vasquez helping guide the bell. Faraday, Jack, and Billy helped pull the ropes from outside, to lift the weight of the bell. Goodnight was up in the steeple, helping direct everyone.

The bell finally came to rest back in her tower, everyone in town seeming to stop for a moment to admire it. Even Chisolm and Vasquez moved out to watch as Teddy, Goodnight, and Mr.Gibson all got the bell tied into place more permanently. The Preacher looked aloft at the bell and steeple.

“Now you can pray for us, Father.”, Vasquez said to the man.

The Preacher reached, offering his good hand to Vasquez, a smile broad on his bearded face.

“My brother, I will pray for you until I forget how to pray.”

Vasquez was struck. He could not recall the last time he had been treated this way. Mostly, he was treated as bad luck, thieving scum, or a dangerous heathen. No one spoke to him in a friendly, familiar fashion. Let alone a man of the cloth calling him ‘brother’ and eagerly taking his hand.

Looking up to the bell, Vasquez crossed himself as his mother had taught him when he was too small to remember. His hand fell to the silver pendent he still wore beneath his shirt. A gift from her. A saint to protect and guide her youngest son.

“This is a grand day, in the history or Rose Creek!”, the Preacher pronounced loudly enough for most of the town to hear. “God bless you, Mr.Chisolm, sir. Vindication, brothers and sisters!”

Looking, Vasquez noticed something else. A small boy walked up to Chisolm and offered him water from a bucket, another offered Billy a ladle for the water bucket. A small, curly-haired girl walked up to Jack, without any fear at all, to offer him a drink from a water bucket. The Preacher continued to glorify the Lord, while the towns people admired the bell tower, without a single soul afraid of any of the seven of them. Turning, he noticed Emma on a nearby porch with Mrs.Ginny and a baby, admiring the bell. Faraday seemed to be admiring Emma before he turned to grouch at Vasquez.

The peaceful scene was interrupted by the sound of hooves furiously pounding into the dirt, propelling a horse and rider through the center of the town at great speed. Red Harvest and his painted horse. Vasquez muttered a small curse under his breath. For a moment, he had almost forgotten the reason they were here and what they were soon to face.

Red leapt down from his horse, saying something to Chisolm in a tone that left no mistake. Bogue was coming. Vasquez didn’t need to understand Red’s words to understand his meaning. Chisolm’s face confirmed it before the man spoke. So did Jack’s.

Mr.Gibson hammered the bell once in the tower, once more drawing all attention to it. The man waved with a smile, unaware of the conversation below.

“Ask not for whom the bell tolls.”, Jack muttered under his breath as he passed Vasquez.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The Preacher held a small service just outside the steps of his burned-out Church. People needed to be comforted and Victoria supposed this was the best comfort the man could offer at present. Despite her personal feelings about religion, faith, and such- she admired their Preacher. He was a good man and his faith was sure as a mother’s embrace, yet more than that, she admired how he genuinely wished to help every person in Rose Creek, feel listened to and cared for. Even Victoria, whom most wondered if there was something unnatural about her or if she had some terribly sad tale to explain why she avoided romance, the Church, and most organized gatherings in town.

Emma had gone with Teddy, Ginny, and some others to attend the little service. Victoria didn’t blame her cousin. Emma’s faith had always been strong. Even losing Emily, and now Matthew, Emma’s faith remained constant. Victoria envied Emma for that. Faith had never come easily for Victoria. Not when they were children, not when she faced off against a drunken villain in a back kitchen on the other side of an ocean from Rose Creek, and not when sitting in a dark street on the eve of battle.

Meanwhile, Vasquez, Faraday, Red, and Jack sat out on the porch of the hotel where they had taken their meal. The porch that had hosted the whole lot of them every night since they arrived. That was, until tonight. Billy and Goody had gone upstairs for a spell, and Vasquez was sure he had heard slightly raised voices and cursing in a language he was sure had to have been Billy’s home tongue. Chisolm had walked off, as usual, to take a turn about town.

Vasquez was roused from his thoughts about tomorrow, by the sound of a horse. He looked to see Goodnight riding off on his dark steed. His saddle bags were packed and he wore his heavy coat. The southern sharp-shooter was leaving them. Chisolm walked out, following slowly after Goodnight. Their leader seemed to have been unable to convince Goodnight to stay.

“You all right?”, Chisolm asked them as he walked up to join them on the porch.

None of them spoke. Faraday fiddled with the coin in her fingers, Red stood leaned against the wall and observering, Jack was settled between Red and Faraday, and Vasquez took another drag from his cigar. Chisolm stood before them, gathering himself.

“Well, where’s Billy?”

Jack turned, looking inside to where Billy now stood at the bar, his back to them.

“It looks like he’s started to drink.”

“All right. Well, anybody else wanna leave, now’s the time. No one’ll hold any ill will towards you.”

For a tense moment, no one spoke. Vasquez removed his cigar, his eyes carefully kept off his companions.

“What about you?”, he asked.

“I… I believe I’ll see this through.”, Chisolm answered as Vasquez looked up to meet his gaze, “These people deserve their lives back.”

Vasquez looked at the cards Faraday was shuffling in his hands, then to the small Bible in Jack’s lap.

“I have nowhere else to go. So I’m in.”

Jack spoke, drawing all of them to look at the mountain man.

“You know, I knew that tomorrow was going to be a dark day. And now that there’s one less of us, it’s gonna be darker. But to be in the service of others, with men that I respect, like you all…”, he trailed off as if letting his words sink in, “Well, I shouldn’t have to ask for more than that.”

Vasquez forced a smile, chewing a bit on his cigar. He had grown to admire the mountain man, and was comforted somewhat by his words. Billy would likely be hungover and crazy in the morning, the rest of them tired from a sleepless night after all the hard work today, with a town full of innocents who had never faced real battle before, and yet they would face Bogue’s army of hired guns.

Chisolm nodded to each of them, before walking off to attend to whatever he felt needed tending to. Faraday continued to toy with his playing cards as they sat, quietly, on their porch. Faraday stood after a moment, watching Chisolm walking towards the group having their Church meeting. It seemed they all were a bit worried about their Captain.

“I’m hungry.”

Vasquez and Jack both turned to look at the Indian. Not once in their entire time since coming to Rose Creek, had the man spoken even one word of English, nor had he acted as if he understood it fully.

“Wait. Hell, you speak English?”, Jack asked.

Vasquez muttered a curse in his own native tongue. He should have been so smart as to pretend he didn’t speak or understand English.

“Some.”, Red answered.

Jack rose, chuckling in that high pitch way he had, his large form looming over Red and Vasquez. He clapped a hand over Red’s shoulder, a smile spread over his round face.

“You little shit. We have a lot to talk about.”, he said as he followed Red back into the hotel. Vasquez spared a glance to where Faraday was still watching Chisolm, Emma, and the others at their prayer group, before going in with Jack and Red. Someone needed to stop Billy from drinking himself into oblivion and Vasquez figured he was the least likely to end up getting stabbed or kicked by the broken man.

*^*^*^*^*^*

Victoria stepped off the back porch of her shop, as she heard someone quietly walking up to her. When she looked, the Preacher was coming up the backside of town, a lantern in hand, with his wife walking beside him, carrying a long bundle. Victoria smiled to them as she greeted them, surprised to see them at this hour, and away from their home.

“Preacher, Evie. Can I help you?”

Then she looked to the Preacher’s arm, concerned.

“Your wound isn’t causing you trouble, is it?”

The Preacher waved her off with his injured hand, a sad smile on his face. She noticed that Evie also seemed to share the sad sort of smile as her arms clung to the wrapped bundle in her arms. It was very long and slim, giving Victoria a pretty good idea what the item was inside the wrapping. Evie, with her graying brown hair and soft brown eyes, looked over the Preacher as if prodding him.

“We’ve heard Mr.Goodnight has left and is not returning for the fight tomorrow.”

Victoria nodded. Emma had told her when she got back from the prayer service, before she went upstairs to change for bed.

“Our late son, Robert, he made one expensive purchase before we left for Rose Creek.”, the Preacher started, letting out a hollow chuckle.

“Boy wanted a real gun for hunting. Something to last and to shoot true. He purchased himself a Winchester rifle.”

Evie began unfolding the blanket, to reveal the glint of steel that made up the end of the barrel. Victoria knew enough about guns to be in awe of the craftsmanship to make and the care Evie and the Preacher had taken, of the rifle before her.

“He got it just before we left. Fired it a few times on the journey here and only… two or three times, before the Fever took him that first winter. And… well, I’ve fired it a few times since, kept it clean and working but… We’ve discussed it and neither of us are good enough an aim for such a weapon. From what Emma says, you’re good enough to make solid use of this weapon. Perhaps you can be more help to Mr.Chisolm and his men, if you have a weapon equal to your skill.”

With that, Evie held out the rifle to Victoria, an encouraging smile on her kind face. Victoria’s arms felt made of lead yet she forced herself to reach out and take the gun. It was heavy. The wood was polished as if it were a dining room table before Easter, the metal clean and without blemish, the balance perfect as she moved to place it under her left arm.

“Preacher, if you’ll wait, I’ll bring you down one of my Henry rifles. You’ll need something to shoot tomorrow.”

He waved her off as Evie unwrapped two boxes of bullets for the Winchester.

“Give it to Emma. She’ll need as many bullets and guns as she can fire to match her fury.”

Victoria nodded, agreeing completely. Hurt and determination had turned to wrath over the last few hours, leaving Emma a furious storm bottled in human skin. She took the offered ammunition and thanked the Preacher and Evie. When they walked off, Evie took the lantern and let the Preacher wrap his good arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side. They had been through so much, the Preacher and Evie, yet they remained kind and still seemed to love each other with a tenderness Victoria recognized from seeing it between Matthew and Emma. Two people who truly loved someone they saw as an equal, their partner in all things. It was no small wonder that Emma had become to eaten up by her grief, to have lost someone such as Matthew and to have lost the life they had together.

Victoria went inside, then up the stairs to where Emma was washing her face before bed. Grabbing one of her Henry rifles, Victoria brought it into the bedroom and offered it to Emma. Emma was confused for a moment, until she saw the rifle in Victoria’s other hand.

“Isn’t that the Preacher’s?”

“His son Robert’s. They offered it to me for tomorrow, and suggested you take one or both of the Henrys for tomorrow.”

Emma nodded.

“I’ll take one. You should give the other to Mr.Hickem. He is a pretty good shot, and he’s fast with a rifle when he’s hunting or when they’ve done some target shooting.”

Victoria nodded, handing the Henry over to Emma. Without a word, Emma slid her skirt back on over her nightgown and headed out. Victoria didn’t need to ask or guess. Emma was heading to Chisolm and was going to tell him where he should put her for the fight. Victoria put the Winchester and ammunition on her bed, then decided to get some more water. Tomorrow, after the fighting was done, there would be a lot of bandaging that would need doing. She would need plenty of water to clean out wounds and wash her hands between people, and she would need to wash her instruments between uses.

She grabbed two buckets and made her way to the well. The whole town used it and it had always been one of her favorite places to sit and think. Especially at night. It was beautiful, allowing a view out over the land behind town, flat with only a few trees here and there. The sky was painted in beautiful shades of obsidian, indigo, deep purple, and inky black with the stars brightly twinkling throughout.

Victoria finished pulling up the two buckets of water, going back in for two more, and again for another two when she decided to do something she had not done in quite some time. She sat with a hip hitched over the edge of the well wall, a hand moving to the pewter pendent that always remained hidden beneath the layers of clothing she wore. It had been her grandmother’s. Her grandfather gave it to her on the occasion of her 13th birthday, saying it had been an old Irish symbol for protection. It wasn’t a Christian symbol and he knew her father would have been angry to know she had it or that he had given it to her, yet it felt like a real source of protection to her just the same. Victoria had always assumed it was because it had been her late grandmother’s and had been given to her in love, gifting the object with an echo of all that love, to remind her she was never truly alone.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of boots and muttering. She smiled. Vasquez was muttering something in Spanish as he walked towards the well. On such a dark night, he must not have realized she was there just yet.

“Mr.Vasquez.”, she greeted.

He stopped, almost seeming to jump, his right hand hovering over his gun before he realized who had addressed him. His posture instantly relaxed.

“Ms.Kenton? What is it you are doing out here?”

“I was getting water.”

“Do you need help?”

She shook her head. Vasquez smiled. She looked so… peaceful. They were going to battle in the morning, Goodnight had deserted them, and Chisolm’s faith seemed to have been shaken, yet here she was.

“It was such a nice night, I thought I would indulge myself in an old habit I haven’t allowed myself in almost a decade.”

Moving to sit beside her, one beam holding up the cap for the well, between their hips.

“What habit is that? Were you making a wish?”

“Praying.”

Vasquez considered her for a moment as her face was turned skyward, her hand twirling a metal charm at the end of a long chain about her neck. He had never noticed her wearing jewelry before. He wondered if she, like himself, wore it close and mostly hidden by her clothes or if she had just put it on tonight. Either way, it seemed important to her and made her seem even younger, like a kid holding a memento while their papa was away on a cattle drive.

“You’re awful young to have lost your faith, sinorita.”

Her smile was that of an old, wise soul.

“How old do you think I am, Mr.Vasquez?”

He shrugged, a bit fearful of guessing wrong. Women could be angered over such things.

“Twenty-three?”

She chuckled breathily.

“Emma’s closer to that than I am. Add another seven to it.”

Vasquez nodded, doing the math quickly enough to realize she was only five years his junior. He would have thought her younger. His guess had been an honest one, as he thought she could be that young, though he had figured no older than 26.

“You see, not so young.”, she added.

He shook his head, then turned to look around the upright, at her.

“Too young a lady to be so cut off from your Lord. What broke your faith?”, he asked, genuinely fearful of what might have done this to someone so young and so caring.

“I don’t know that it was any one thing. I’m afraid I’ve always been the angry, vengeful sort. Ask Emma. She’s done a lot of patching me up after a fight, back when we were younger. Before she was married.”

Vasquez grinned, despite himself.

“I knew you were a fighter.”

Victoria chuckled, leaning over against the upright, bringing her closer to Mr.Vasquez.

“That is one more thing we have in common.”

The two of them sat a while, looking up at the stars. Neither spoke. A bit of music drifted down, almost mournfully, from town. Someone was playing their violin. Vasquez could not recall who the violinist was in town. He wished, however, that they would stop. Or play something more lively.

“What were you praying for?”

“Hmm?”, she asked as she tilted her head around the beam to look at Vasquez.

“When I came, what were you praying for?”

She turned her face back to the sky, sighing.

“That all of you survive tomorrow. That we don’t lose too many people. That we win That the town will still be good in the days after, and not turn bitter or hard over this. That Emma will find peace after she’s gotten her vengeance. I’m the wrathful one, she’s always been the peacekeeper. It doesn’t seem right that I’m the calm, cool one and she’s the one ready to tear into the first target to present himself.”

He nodded.

“She must have loved her husband fierce.”

He saw Victoria nodding, a wistful look to her.

“She’s Irish. We always love fierce as a mythic beast. He was kind and patient, and he wasn’t exactly ugly either. He was everything Emma could have dreamed her husband would be.”

“What about you? No man has turned your head or stolen your heart?”, he asked, genuinely curious and only a little bit teasing.

“No, I seem to have too many needs and don’t offer enough in return.”

That he did not believe.

“No.”

“I’ve a need of freedom, a need of my own space, a need of a partner in this life, but I offer only my loyalty and love in return.”

“It sounds not too bad.”, he answered.

He could imagine it. A life with her. She’d have her medicine shop and he could have horses. He would breed, train, and sell horses to make a living and she could run her shop, helping people, and making her little toys for the children in town. They could take their meals at the hotel or with Emma, and perhaps a new husband Emma might marry in years to come, then retire back to their bed of a night. It was easy to picture a life with her. Vasquez could not imagine a man, without a price on his head, not being able to figure out how to work out a life with Victoria.

“Majority opinion would disagree, Mr.Vasquez.”, then she turned to smile over at him, her eyes not quite meeting his, “What about you? Is there a Mrs.Vasquez out there, waiting for you to return?”

He shook his head, his mind filled with images of home and how it was as he left.

“I’ve come close, before I was an outlaw. Then… the Ranger I killed, he came to my sister’s farm. She and her husband were eating breakfast and willing to share with a friendly stranger. When I got there… heading in from my own place, I found her husband dead in the doorway and her a few steps inside. Best I could figure, he killed Diego and when he tried… to have his… his way with Solena, she… She never went without a weapon and she was a fighter. He had killed her when she was fighting back, and she had cut him badly.”

He felt a warm, work-roughened hand lay over his own. Victoria gave him a comforting grasp, her thumb running along the back of his hand.

“It took me four months, I caught up to him and… Now I’m an outlaw and he is remembered as a hero of Texas.”

Victoria shook her head.

“It isn’t right.”

“No. But it is the law.”

For a while, they sat, her hand in his, neither saying a word or moving. Vasquez did his best not to think of Solena and Diego, of tomorrow, or of riding away in a couple days to leave Victoria and Rose Creek behind. But he was a criminal now. Wanted, on the run, with a price on his head. No matter the outcome tomorrow, there would be no peace for him even in Rose Creek.

“I’ll help you carry the buckets back.”

“Thank you, Mr.Vasquez.”

“Bernardo.”

She looked over at him, smiling.

“Thank you, Bernardo.”

He took one bucket as she had already grabbed the other’s handle, and walked with her back to her store. He stopped at the back door, allowing her to take the buckets in alone. When she came back, he smiled.

“It was good to talk.”

“It was. Thank you for walking me home, Bernardo.”

He smiled, tipping his hat slightly.

“Goodnight, Victoria.”

“Goodnight, Bernardo.”


End file.
